Empire Rising
by Illuviar
Summary: This is an AU story, based on the possibility that the Federation/Klingon Alliance failed during Operation Return - their attack on DS9 in an attempt to prevent the Dominion from disabling the minefield blocking the Bajoran Wormhole. This story explores the effect such a defeat would have on the Federation, which is now faced with imminent military collapse.
1. Prologue

**AN: While reading an excellent piece of writing on the Alternative History Forums called Utopia's Fall, I had a plot bunny, which didn't want to get out of my head. So I decided to turn the idea into a full fledged story. Here are the first two parts of the prologue. Please tell me what you think.**

 **I need a beta for this story!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Book I: How the Dreams Die**

 **Prologue: How to lose a war in a single afternoon**

 _=HDD=_

 _This is a story about the end of an age, the awakening from a dream that lasted centuries. It is a tale illustrating what happened when humanity's illusion of Utopia was shattered... about the people who had to pick up the pieces of a fragmented Federation and the new age which dawned as the Dominion armadas advanced towards Earth..._

 _But let's start at the beginning. Before the War, everything that followed would have been considered unthinkable. At best, lunacy fit for those Mirror Universe madmen. Yet, it all happened, with some of us playing crucial roles in the events that were about to unfold (even if it didn't seem so at the time!). Let me tell you, when the hostilities commenced, we were caught largely off guard. You all know how Starfleet was back then – a bloody exploration outfith, chock full with pleasure cruisers which had weapons and defensive systems added as an afterthought. Moreover, a huge part of the fleet was made up from dedicated science ships or hulls, which though refitted multiple times, were a century old..._

 _Adm. John Sinclair, retired_

 **=HDD=**

 ** _Login: Central Actual_**

 ** _Password:_ Thunderchild**

 ** _Codeword:_ Delta Blue**

 ** _Classification:_ Level Black**

 ** _Pending scan results..._**

 ** _Identity confirmed..._**

 ** _Logging you in Commander..._**

 _ **Accessing Secured Imperial Archive Database...**_

 ** _Password required..._**

 ** _Password Accepted..._**

 ** _Access Granted..._**

 ** _Searching..._**

 ** _Initializing Audio Recording Zeta-Jerico-Halcyon-27105..._**

 **Voice 1:** I warned you.

 **Voice 2:** You did. The politicians didn't listen.

 **Voice 3:** They didn't want to listen.

 **Voice 2:** It's been too long since the Federation's public felt truly threatened. As far as the average citizens are concerned, Starfleet managed to beat any threat, even the Borg.

 **Voice 1:** We became victims of our own propaganda. Amongst a lot of other things.

 **Voice 3:** Indeed. Though that's not why we are here. Besides we already had that conversation.

 **Voice 2:** Let's cut to the chase.

 **Voice 3:** We need your particular skills and what you represent.

 **Voice 1:** I'll do whatever it takes to stop the Dominion.

 **Voice 2:** We are counting on it.

 ** _Playback terminated... Data corruption detected..._**

 **=HDD=**

 **Captain's Ready room**

 **USS Enterprise, Starfleet Flagship**

 **En route to Second fleet's staging area**

 **Location Classified**

Jean-Luc took a sip from a steaming muck filled with Earl Grey tea, while silently cursing the madness that had enveloped the galaxy as a whole. Even now, months after the hostilities started and after all the battles the Enterprise and her crew were through, it was hard to believe.

War. A senseless conflict which was trying its best to tear down the carefully build by the Federation. The future was supposed to be bright, peaceful. Filled with exploration and meeting new species.

Not this!

Picard was glaring at the datapad in his hands. It showed an endless list of shattered ship and broken men. Many of them were his friends. People with whom he had been in the academy, collegues he had served with on various ships.

"Do you see it now, Mon Capitan?" asked a hated voice.

"Q!" Picard snapped.

Whatever that infernal being wanted, it wasn't good for either Jean-Luc or his crew. Or any being in the vicinity either.

The Captain looked up from the data pad to see the painfully familiar sight of Q sitting on the other side of his desk. The omnipotent being was wearing the crimson uniform of Starfleet admiral, though it was old fashioned. It was something straight from the time when the Khitomer Accords were signed.

"Me?! Where?" Q exclaimed and looked around in a mock surprise.

"Q, I don't have time for your antics!"

"You don't know the half of it, Mon Capitan!" a vicious smile appeared on the uninvited visitor's face. "How does it feel, Jean-Luc, to stand at the Dawn of a new era?"

Picard narrowed his eyes. He had a bad feeling about this. Despite his seemingly nonchalant mannierism, this time there was something different about Q. His eyes shone with unrestrained glee. And the way Q spoke, his tone was like that of a kid who couldn't wait to share a big secret.

It all made Picard feel uneasy.

"Oh, you haven't heard yet?" Q looked surprised. He glanced at his left wrist, where now stood a old fashioned watch. "Ah, my bad, old friend. It's happening just as we speak! Let's go see history in the making!" with those words, Q snapped his fingers and they disappeared in a flash of light.

To Picard surprise, they appeared in the void of space. However before the Captain could react, his attention was grabbed by what was in front of them. They were giants overlooking a vast light-show. It took him a moment, before the Starfleet officer comprehended what he was seeing.

It was a great space battle between the Federation, their Klingon Allies and the Dominion and the misleaded Cardassians.

"Q, what is the meaning of this?"

The question was ignored. Instead, Q pointed a giant finger at a particular spot of the melee. "There. Watch closely or you might miss it. Here history is being made!"

Picard frowned, though he looked more closely at the battle. Whole squadrons of Starfleet capital ships, wings of fighters and smaller detachments of Klingon ships were throwing themselves into a breach within the enemy lines. For a moment it looked like they would succeed into splitting the Dominion force into two... until Picard's experienced eyes noticed the folly of that paticular attack.

The Starfleet vessels and their allies were flying straight into a lethal crossfire, while the enemy was attempting to surround them, using their significant numerical advantage. Jean-Luc looked more carefully at what Q was pointing at, noticing that a Deffiant Escort was leading the charge, flanked by two Klingon Birds of prey.

Two wings of Dominion fighters pounced on those ships, cutting the Klingon light ships to pieces within seconds. The Federation craft valiantly evaded the brunt of the enemy fire for few moments, a testament for her helmsman incredible skill and luck.

It didn't last. Lances of pure energy strafed over the struggling shields of the Deffiant Class. The defences, which had been hammered once too many times folded, allowing two purple beams to hit the Starfleet vessel amidship. It listed, suddenly slowing down.

That proved to be it's undoing.

Either by design or accident, one of the pursuing fighters flew straight at the crippled ship. It plowed into it at a steep angle, shattering both vessels before the pieces were immolated into the flames of breached warpcores.

The view of the battle zoomed out. It revealed that all Federation ships which entered the breach were destroyed. The rest of the Alliance forces, now outnumbered more than ever, were acting without direction.

"What is this?" Picard asked. There was a hint of dread in his voice. The Captain suspected that he knew very well what he just saw, and the consequences didn't bare thinking about.

"It's the end of the Line, Jean-Luc. The Federation as a whole and the Humanity in particular had been slumbering for too long. It's time to awake from your comfortable dreams of Utopia," Q smirked. "The Federation as it is today, just lost the war. This is a defeat from which you can't recover while you maintain your high and mighty ideals. And this time, there won't be a divine intervention. No Q or those unrully kids, the Prophets saving the day. Welcome to the future, Mon Captain!"

Q snapped his fingers and Picard was back in his ready room. He stood there, stunned for a moment before shacking his head and activating his comm badge.

"Number One...

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 2**

 **Bridge**

 **USS Millennium, Akira class cruiser**

"Alex, find who is in charge of the fleet!" Commander Sinclair hissed through clenched teeth. Every movement, every whisper made the edges of his broken ribs grate at each other, sending stabs of fiery agony in his left side.

He forced himself to disregard the pain and focus on the job at hand. His friend and commanding officer, Captain Shran laid in a crumpled heap near his chair. The last salvos of dominion fire to hit their ship had caused their dampeners to fluctuate for an instant, tossing the bridge crew around. The Andorian Skipper had the misfortune of landing even worse than John, breaking his neck. That left Sinclair in charge of Millennium and her remaining crew.

"It's a mess, Commander! All flag ships are either destroyed or out of action. No one has taken command since we lost contact with the Defiant."

Lieutenant Alexis Felix was trying to keep her voice calm but he could hear her desperation.

"Bloody hell..." John cursed. Sinclair grunted in pain as he grabbed the side of the Captain's chair and made his way onto it. He stared at the forward screen showing him the mess in which the remains of the Federation fleet and their allies found themselves in. The Dominion lines were folding in. They were surrounding and concentrating their fire into the ships which tried to fight their way to DS9. He didn't need to be a tactical genius to figure out what was about to happen. More than half the fleet would be gone in few minutes. The rest of the Alliance fleet was in light contact with the enemy's forward elements, which were numerous enough to hold them down, while the bulk of the Dominion fleet was mopping up everyone who charged after the Defiant.

Of course, those forward Dominion elements were nothing to sneer at either. Especially with the fleet headless as it was. The enemy ships weren't content to just play defense and wait until the main fleet action was resolved behind them. On the contrary, they were forming the bulk of their numbers for an all out attack, while wings of fighters and lighter ships screened them.

John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his mind. Unless someone did something, soon, the fleet was doomed. He shook his head. He was just a commander and a lot of captains were still alive, yet no one seemed to be doing anything constructive. Perhaps they are shocked, he thought. Just as he was. Until moments ago he too believed that they would succeed despite the odds. The Federation had always managed to pull off something stunning at the most desperate of times.

Sinclair opened his eyes and starred at the screen. More ships were dying while he was wondering what to do. It was as if everyone in the fleet was waiting for a miracle to happen and save the day. He grimaced. Was that it? If he was honest with himself, John knew that Operation Return was a long shot. An act of desperation that was crumbling around him, killing a whole fleet.

"Alex, open a channel to every Alliance ship still fighting. This is Commander John Sinclair, Acting Captain of the Millennium. I'm taking command of the fleet. All units, reform around the surviving Sovereign divisions then assume formation Beta Seven. Then wait wait for further orders." He glared at the tactical plot. "Alex patch me through to the most senior Klingon that's still alive."

"I'm on it."

"Engineering, what's our status?"

"Shields are down to twenty percent. A third of our phaser grid is gone and we have breaches on multiple decks." came the terse reply from Lieutenant Commander Cole Tirol, the chief engineer.

"Damn. Engines and warp?|

"Online. For now. That all? I'm a bit busy over here."

"Carry on."

"Spirit of Hope and Vigilant are acknowledging." Lieutenant Felix informed him. "What's left of our squadron as well."

"Thats' something."

"This is Worf! I've taken command of the Klingon forces in this theater," a familiar face appeared on the main view screen.

The former Starfleet officer looked much worse to wear. There was blood slowly leaking down his ridges from a nasty looking head wound, making him look like a monster straight from an ancient Earth myth.

"Worf, we need to get out as much of the fleet as we can." John started. He needed a way to convince the Klingons to die gloriously another day. "I..."

"I know." Worf interrupted him. "This is the last offensive force that the Empire has left." he announced with a haunted voice.

"We've got few minutes before their main forces are free to come after us." Sinclair took a deep breath. What he was going to do, what he needed to do, went against everything he had been taught as a Starfleet officer. Yet, it was the only way to salvage something from this disaster.

"Less. Their vanguard will hit us long before the rest of the Dominion fleet regroups." Worf grunted.

"I know." the Commander glanced at Alex, who gave him a thumbs up. John hoped that he didn't misinterpret her gesture and most of the Alliance fleet will follow his orders. No mater how... distasteful they were. Yeah, let's go with that word. Its sounds better than cowardice.

"Alex, give me a status of the fleet. I want to know how many ships can't maintain maximum warp. Same goes to your forces, Worf."

The Klingon's eyes widened then blazed with furry for a moment, before his discipline won the day, showing that he was head and shoulders above most of his people. "I see. You'll get the data ASAP."

"We've got thirty ships of all classes which have suffered engine damage." Alex was her usual, efficient self.

"Not enough. What's your status, Worf?"

"About a third of our remaining ships won't be able to get away."

"That might just be enough. Alex, give me a fleet wide channel, both to Starfleet and the Klingons."

"You are on, sir."

Sinclair paused for a moment. He sucked at making speeches, damn it.

"Men and women of the Alliance, I won't sugarcoat it. We gambled on our courage and determination to carry the day against impossible odds." He took a deep breath. "We failed. Now our duty is to preserve as many of our ships and crews as possible, so we can face the Dominion another day. At a time and place where we can stop them cold!" He paused , gathering his thoughts. "Right now, the Dominion commanders believe that they have won not only this battle, but the war itself. If we let our fleet perish here, they might very well be right. That's why I'm asking you for one more sacrifice. The Millennium will lead all our damaged ships in a counterattack, buying time for the fleet to disengage and regroup with friendly forces."

Sinclair looked at the tactical display. They were running out of time.

"All ships able to go to warp, disengage by divisions and go. The rest of the fleet will advance. Helm, pull us next to that listing Sovereign."

"The Hood? I'm on it, skipper."


	2. Reviews Response

The review system has been acting up lately - I've been getting the reviews on my email but they are non-existent on the site.

edboy4926, Bluesnowman - I'm glad you like the idea!

Happy New year!


	3. ER Book 1 Chapter 1 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **AN: I need a beta for this story!**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 1: Consequences**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 1**

 **Med Bay**

 **RES "Talon"**

"That's unexpected." Sinclair muttered when he came to his senses.

"Indeed." said an unfamiliar voice.

The Commander turned his head in the direction the sound came from. He was in a dimly lit room, which was an obvious med bay. There were a lot of Starfleet officers being treated, with others laying or sitting around in the cramped compartment. There were a lot of Romulans, taking care of his people.

"Urg. I think I missed something."

The Romulan who spoke, tilted his head to the right. His lips twitched with something that might have been amusement.

"Thanks to the arrogance of your Federation types, now the Romulan Star Empire has a problem." spoke the man.

Apparently Sinclair's mind had finally rebooted so he was able to bite of a scratching remark. Instead he spoke calmly.

"The Dominion. So what happens now? You wouldn't waste your time taking care for our wounded if we were to be presented as a sign of a good will to the nearest Dominion ship."

"Well, there are undoubtedly some that would like nothing less than quietly disappearing you." the man shrugged. "They aren't in charge."

Sinclair raised both eyebrows. How interesting. What was the Romulan implying… But first he needed to know who exactly he was dealing with. If the Romulan was going to introduce himself with anything resembling his real name and rank.

"Sorry, I've seem to have misplaced my manners. I'm Commander John Sinclair, lately from USS Millennium."

"Captain Lorik Tane, of the RES _Talon_ _, Commander._ " The Romulan stared at him. "If you are up to it, we need to talk. Your personnel will be well threated." With those words, Tane turned around and headed for the exit.

Sinclair shrugged and followed him after looking for familiar faces. Unfortunately with the exception of couple of new transfers to the Millennium he was unfamiliar with the rest of the Starfleet personnel in the Med Bay. While he was worried for his crew, John had bigger problems. The way the Romulans were behaving was unusual for them to say the least.

Few minutes later, he was escorted in a small conference room, where the Captain was waiting for him, alone. He was sitting on the other side of a long table, sipping from a tall glass with Romulan ale. Tane waved at the replicator built in the wall to the right. "Pick your poison, Captain."

Sinclair shrugged and did so. "Whiskey. Clean."

The Starfleet took the glass that materialized with a familiar whine and sat across the table from his host. "This isn't a social call." he stated.

"That's obvious."

They studied each other in silence. The Captain was wearing a single piece uniform, which was dark green in color. There was no insignia on it, just a comm badge in the form of the Star Empire's crest on his chest, over the heart. The Romulan, had his hair shaved unusually short, almost bald, which contrasted with the sharp edges of his eyebrows and pointy ears.

"You know, few hours before your suicidal attack on the Dominion, The Empire was ready to just watch the show." The Captain took a swing from his ale.

"I'm not surprised."

"Oh? No affronted exclamation or pleads to our better nature?"

"I thought that it was surgically removed."

Tane chuckled at that quip. "Ah. So there are realists in Starfleet. We've been wondering if all of them were already retired."

Sinclair didn't answer and just stared at his host. He was wondering what was the purpose of this conversation. An awkward chat wasn't it.

"You know Commander, my initial orders were to just observe. Catch a few good shots of Starfleet vessels being gutted." The Captain's smile grew predatory. "To observe the Dominion fleet for weaknesses in case they came after us." He paused. "And see if the Federation would be saved by another miracle."

"We are all out of luck."

"That's the problem." The Romulan nodded morosely. "While the battle was going on, the Dominion managed to take down your mine field. Three thousand additional warships poured through the Wormhole."

Sinclair winced. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to believe that Tane was lying through his teeth. He might very well have. Yet… John knew why the attack had been rushed, executed before the necessary forces were in place. Shran had been briefed and confided the truth in him. The Dominion were about to take down the mines, that much was true. Even worse, it didn't matter if they had succeeded this time or not. After that defeat, the Federation no longer had the forces at hand for another direct strike at Deep Space Nine. If such armada had entered the quadrant…

"I'm aware of the implications. Or at least I think so. Which still doesn't explain your actions, Captain. I would have thought that the Dominion reinforcements would be an excellent reason for your people to stay away from this war."

"Despite popular belief, The Empire isn't actually run by imbeciles." Tane added something under his breath that suspiciously sounded as "most of the time".

"Ah. So you've seen the writing on the wall." Sinclair perked up. If this was actually genuine, well the Federation might stand a chance after all. Or be royally fucked up by their allies.

"Some didn't." The Romulan shrugged. "They are no longer a problem."

"That's interesting." Though it still didn't explain the conversation. 'I'm a just bloody Commander, damn it!' Sinclair thought.

"I've been ordered to pick up as many survivors as possible, as a gesture of good will, and make my way to Earth."

"What will be the purpose of that visit?"

"Forming a full military alliance against the Dominion and making sure that you Federation types get your heads out of your backsides and start treating this war seriously." Tane growled. "Lucky me..." He took another sip of his Ale and Sinclair followed suit.

"You aren't just a simple starship Captain, are you?" Sinclair inquired. There was more to this than he was seeing.

Tane actually smiled. "What gave it away? My charming personality?"

"Among other things."

"You've been out for twenty four hours, Commander. That could be an ethernity in Romulan politics..." Tane trailed off and took a drank what was left in his cup before reaching for the bottle.

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 2**

 **Conference room**

 **Starbase 375**

Admiral William Ross scrolled through the datapad in his hands, checking the short list of ships that managed to extract themselves after Operation Return went to hell. He shouldn't have authorised the attack. It has always been a roll of the dice and now it blew up in their faces.

"Damn it, Ben!" Ross quietly cursed.

"Admiral, it's confirmed. Only hundred and ten ships will make it here before the Dominion hits us." The Admiral's commbadge spoke with the voice of his Chief of Staff, Captain Irbus Pollux. He was a bright Denobullan officer, who had been wounded in one of the opening battles of the war, making him unfit for frontline dutuy, at least for the time being.

"That's not nearly enough..." he muttered. "Computer, open a channel to Starfleet Command. Priority One."

While the call was going through, he turned his gaze towards the tactical plot. The blob that represented the survivors of Operation Return was slowly creeping towards his base, closely followed by a much bigger red cloud. Nearly two thousand Dominion, Cardassian and Breen vessels were heading his way. Right now, there were lesst than fifty ships stationed at Starbaser 375. They, combined with the remnants of Sisco's fleet and whatever vessels could make it on time… The Admirall shook his head. They would be outnumbered more than three to one, with almost half of their ships damaged. While the Dominion had sent a fleet made up entirely from undamaged vessels. The only reason so many Alliance ships managed to get away was because a single Commander kept his head after the Deffiant was gone and led a doomed charge in order to buy time.

Sinclair had done it, though it cost every single ship that followed him on that doomed counterattack.

Ross' problem was unless he did something fast, it would be all for nothing. Once Starfleed Command learned of the defeat, they had panniced, ordering him to stop the Dominion at Starbase 375. At all cost. If he followed orders, the base and all ships that could reach it in time were going to die. Barring a miracle, he simply couldn't stop two thousand fresh ships with the forces at his disposal. If what Starfleet had in range were newer ships, it might be different, but more than half of his forces were made up by ancient hulls, some of which hadn't been retrofited in couple of decades.

Apparently the fact that he was the one supposed to be running the war no longer mattered. Ross could understand that. After all, he was one of the people who backed up Sisco's idea for Operation Return. Once the news of the debacle came, he was expecting to be relieved as theater commander and replaced. Instead he was ordered to hold the line at all cost, though at least that has been before it was clear how many ships the Dominion were throwing his way.

"Captain Pollux, start coordinating with Commodore Franks. I want this station evacuated within five hours. I also need voulonteers for a skeleton crew, which will man it when the Dominion arrive. We are pulling out once the fleet returns."

There was a momentary pause, before the Captain answered. "I'm on it, sir."

The main viewscreen in the conference room lit up, the Starfleet logo replaced by an office in Starfleet Command. A blond woman, wearing a vice-admiral's uniform greeted him.

"Admiral Ross. What's the situation?"

"Admiral Nechayev." He paused. The Vice-admiral wasn't the one he wanted to contact. "I need to speak either with Chief of Staff Roddenbery or Admiral Livingston."

"I'm afraid it won't be possible right now. They as well as most of Starfleet Command are explaining to the President what went wrong. What happened? I've been mostly out of the loop."

"Two thirds of the fleet slated for Operation Return are gone. The rest are pulling back to my position with overt two thousand Dominion ships on their heels. And I the last orders I got was to hold Starbase 375 at all cost. "

"I see." Admiral Nechayev leaned forward. "I hope you aren't calling to inform us that you'll be making a heroic last stand?"

Ross snorted. "No. I'm evacuating the Starbase and pulling back my forces. With the reinforcements the Dominion received, we'll be unable to hold the current line. I'll be ordering a general retreat in the next half hour."

"What do you need?" Nechayev's tone had become deadly serious.

"More ships." was hid deadpan response.

"We are already retrofiting everything in the boneyards. As you very well know, during the last meeting the assembly decided to make the transition to wartime economy. Apparently not only it wasn't needed, but it would have sent the wrong message to the Federation as a whole." As she was saying that, Nechayev looked like she was tasting something bitter.

"I missed that memo." Ross frowned. "The Wormhole is now opened." He didn't need to elaborate.

"Ah. That's unfortunate." Obviously his fellow admiral wasn't informed yet of the latest development. She slumped back in her chair. "I'll see what I can do on my end, William. What are you planning to do?"

"We are pulling back to Blue Horrizon. There is a repair and refit depot about to go operational in the system. I will be detaching a third of the forces on this theater to reinforce the units at Starbase 41 and Trill."

"They are likely to be cut off."

"I know. However if the Dominion goes after them it will buy us more time. If they ignore those forces, then they will be free to execute raids, targeting White production facilities and shipyards."

"At the very least the Dominion will have to detach a blocking force." Nechayev agreed. She paused. "You are aware that many in the Assembly will view your actions as abandoning tracks of the Federation?"

"It can't be helped. Unless you could scrounge up some heavy reinforcements, I won't be able to hold Blue Horrizon either."

"We've tapped up the existing faclities in either building new ships or refitting the reserve. I can't do much more before a further fleet expansion is authorised and the economic starts transitioning into war footing."

"If that doesn't happen soon, it will be irrelevant."

"Oh, it get's worse."

"Do I want to know?" Ross winced.

"We are running into trouble recruiting enough qualified personnel to mann the current fleet expansion program much less any future build up."

"How did that happen?! We are the biggest and most populous power in both Alpha and Beta Quadrants?!" Ross exclaimed.

"Most if not all people in the core worlds apparently don't believe that the war will ever get to their doorsteps. After all Starfleet has always been here to solve any unpleasant problems." Nechayev smilled sadly.

"That's no longer the case. It will be eight to twelve months before we have a big enough core of modern ships. Unless something changes, we will lose the war before that happens. The bulk of my forces is made up by obsolete ships which are little more than target practice."

"I've seen the casualty numbers. They are disproportunate among the older classes." Nechayev nodded. "We've lost barely ten percent of the new contsruction. However good, we don't have enough of those classes to make a difference."

"To stop the Dominion I need more modern ships. Soon. You and the rest of Starfleet Command need to convince the President and Assembly to ramp up production. Meanwhile I'll do my best to buy as much time as possible. Good luck." With those words, Ross cut the connection.

Now he had to dust up the contingency plans, because the Federation's strategy for the war had just went out of the airlock.


	4. ER Book 1 Chapter 1 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 1: Consequences**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 3**

 **IKS Negh'Var**

 **En route to the Klingon border**

It wasn't something a Klingon warrior was accustomed to.

Oh, they weren't _running._ No. It was merely a tactical advance to a more suitable battlefield. Or so the General was busy repeating to the remaining half of the fleet.

Of the two hundred and twenty three warships that Worf convinced his people to bring for Operation Return, only a hundred and two were returning to the Empire. The rest were now a part of the Black Fleet.

"General, the Birds' of Prey we left behind sent a burst transmission!" The Operations officer growled.

"Report." Martok grunted.

"Two thousand ships are chasing the Federation survivors." The woman paused. "One thousand two hundred and eleven enemy ships just headed towards the Empire. The Kahles's Honor and Proud Blood are shadowing them."

Suddenly the bridge was deadly silent. There were no shouts of joy at the perceived opportunity for a great honor. No grunts of disapproval that for all intents and purposes the Klingons were retreating in front of numerically superior opponent.

"Give me a priority one channel to Qo'nos, First City. I have a report for the Chancellor." Martok's voice was quiet, yet it contained unrestrained menace. "Tactical, I want all we have on those enemy ships ready to be sent to High Command and the Chancellor yesterday."

The General took a moment to look at his hand picked officers. None of them dared look him in the eye.

Because they all knew. After the short "war" with the Federation, the preemptive strike of Cardassian spake and the opening months of the real war with the Dominion… The Imperial forces were depleted. There were more than a thousand untouched enemy ships coming their way… and while the Klingons could match them in sheer numbers, there were no reserves to speak of. Only what was left of the House Fleets.

"You aren't unbloodied young warriors who haven't cut their teeth against real enemy. You know what this means." Martok spoke quietly.

"They have isolated us." Worf grunted.

"Even if our alliance with the Federation survives this debacle, it practically means nothing now." Martok nodded. He pointed at the back of the bridge. "The Dominion sends enough top of the line warships after us to ensure that we will be too busy dealing with them and keeping our worlds from burning to be concerned what happens with the Federation." The General smiled thinly.

On another ships the bridge would have exploded with deriding shouts aimed at their allies. His people knew better. They knew the art of real war. That if, when, the Federation fell, the Dominion would turn its warmachine's undivided attention on the Empire. Unless Martok was very much mistaken about his estimates of their industrial prowess, the bastards would be able to bury them in ships.

"I've read the intelligence we have on Federation deployments. They have nothing left in the nearby sectors that can do more than slow down the fleet racing towards them." The Tactical officer spoke.

"Indeed now. Our old enemies had let themselves become complacent." Martok mussed. A few decades ago, that would have been a great news for the Empire.

Now, it was anything but.

"General, connection established. The Chancellor awaits your report."

"Put him on the main viewer."

"Martok." Gowron's grow revebrated around the bridge. "Your adventure met an unfortunate end." The Chancellor spoke with a clipped tone, making sure that everyone who heard him was well aware of his displeasure at the situation.

"That it did." Martok nodded calmly. It took him a supreme effort of will to appear composed. "My Tactical officer is sending all we have on the enemy forces heading towards our border. When combined with the other Dominion units in nearby sectors, that makes nearly two thousand ships. Most of them fresh."

Gowron looked down, presumably browsing the hastily made report.

"You know something." The Chancellor stared at the general.

"I've read all reports on our deployments against the Dominion and available House Fleets near the border. Presuming that they are correct..." The General paused. "We may not be able to stop them before they advance between fifteen and twenty light years in our space. That's presuming that they actually hit our border worlds. If the Dominion concentrate on going after our shipyards and mining worlds we will be in trouble."

It was Gowron's turn to be silent. He could read a star map as well as any self-respecting Klingon warrior. For all his faults, the Chancellor wasn't a complete idiot, even if some of his enemies persisted in spreading such rumors about him. Oh, Martok had no illusions that Gowron was the best man for the job, but it might have been much worse. At times the current Chancellor displayed surprising competence. Hopefully for the Empire, this would be one of those moments.

"I see. They are sending a force we can't possibly ignore, while at the same time doing their best to cut off a third of the Federation. At the same time they are sending those two thousand ships towards our 'Allies' core words. Earth and Vulcan."

"That's my read on the situation." Martok confirmed.

"If the Dominion takes out Earth, Vulcan and Andora, they will knock the Federation out of the war. Our 'valued' allies are weak. They will crumble if some of their founding words fall."

"And then the Dominion will be free to send everything they have left at us, with the Romulans waiting to pounce at any perceived weakness." Martok finished the thought.

"It will be a glorious war." Gowron smiled. There was no joy written on his face. No bloodlust as one might have expected from a Klingon. "Possibly the last one." He added softly.

Worf along with the bridge officers stared. It was in the open now, for all to see. It was said, words that couldn't be taken back. A truth that could very well cost Gowron his post as a Chancellor if not his very life.

That made it no less real. It was a truth that the Klingons had known only once before. When Praxis blew up and they were ultimately left at the mercy of their Federation enemies. There were those who believed that the only salvation had laid in a victorious war. The smarter ones, the strategist within High Command knew better. Unless the Federation had been vastly overestimated and they crumbled after the initial offensive, the Empire would have faced destruction between economic collapse and enemy who wouldn't back down.

So common sense had prevailed. A glorious war against honorable opponent had been averted and the Empire was saved.

"We all know the Dominion for the honorless curs they are. This is a war to the death. Not for honor or glory, though we will have planetloads of both before the end. It's about survival." Martok spoke and for the fist time after Operation Return went down in flames he let his passion run free. "We either win this war or the Empire falls."

For a long moment Gowron stared at the general, who thanks to his performance in the war so far was becoming a dangerous political rival. Yet those concerns were now doused, thanks to the debacle that was the latest joint operation.

Both men knew it to be so.

"Pull back our forces to the outer industrial and mining centers. Bird of Prey packs are to harass and monitor the enemy movements. I'll deal with the Council." There was another pause, a much longer one.

The Chancellor's next words would likely see his carrier come to a crashing end, soon. "Request that the Starfleet ships in the nearby sectors pull back to our space. We'll need their numbers."

Martok raised and eyebrow. He knew that many in the Council would see this as an admission of weakness on the Empire's side. Gowron would be the one blamed and challenged because of it.

The Chancellor smiled and looked at the bridge officers. "Some of you think me mad, yes?" Then he laughed. "Perhaps I am. General Martok you have tactical command on all Imperial forces on our borders facing the Dominion. Do what you must. Simply holding them back won't be enough."

"Ah. That's why you want Starfleet." Martok's smile resembled that of a hungry targ. "You want me to defeat the Dominion force coming our way and counterattack before they can overrun the Federation."

"If at all possible. We no longer can afford to treat war as a game, something we've all taken for granted. For all we know, there are another three thousand Dominion ships coming this way on the other side of the wormhole."

That declaration made the bridge deadly silent. Ever the subdued whine of the plasma conduits appeared to vanish for a moment.

The Empire had bled too much of its fleets in ill thought offensives and glory seeking charges. If the Changelings in the Dominion proper could dispatch another such fleet in the foreseeable future, well then they all would be making the transfer to the Black Fleet. One that would not hold much honor, because they would have presided over the Empire's fall.

"I will do my duty to the Empire. To our people." Martok declared.

"As will I. Gowron out."

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 4**

 **Admiral Ross' officers**

 **Starbase 375**

"Sir, all personnel barring the volunteers have been evacuated." Captain Pollux reported.

"Good. Time until the fleet reaches us?" The Admiral asked.

"Twelve hours. According their last status update, about hundred ships won't be able to maintain high enough warp after arriving to outpace the Dominion forces. They are barely holding as it is."

"Call Captain T'jet. I want those combat capable cripples manned by volunteers too. They'll assist this starbase in bleeding the enemy."

"That's a death sentence."

"That's why I'm not ordering a stand here. Because we can't afford any unnecessary loses as it is, however we need to slow down the Dominion armada. They'll have to decimate this position before going deeper into the Federation."

"Sir." Pollux was visibly unhappy at the orders, but kept any further misgivings to himself.

"Admiral, we just got a message from the Enterprise. She's en route at maximum warp with elements of sixteenth fleet." An aide called over the comm.

"Eta? Number of ships?" Ross asked.

"Three days. Thirty ships, mostly older refits though they have a Galaxy and two Akira wings."

"Not enough." Ross looked at the main viewer in his office which showed a map of the nearby sectors and all Starfleet's units operating in the area.

"Picard won't make a difference here..." The Admiral thought aloud as his eyes strayed to a particular dot near the Klingon border. However... "Computer open a Priority One channel to the Enterprise."

 **=HDD=**

 **Conference Room**

 **Enterprise**

"I really hoped that Q was just messing with us." Commander Riker muttered, nursing a cup of steaming coffee.

"Me? Playing pranks?! You wound me, dear." Q appeared near the door, with his customary flash of light. The being was wearing an admiral's uniform and had a bag of popcorn in his hands. "I just informed you of the hottest news in the neighborhood and now I'm going to sit back," Q waved a hand and now the conference room had stretched to accommodate a comfortable looking armchair on which the pain in everyone's backside was now sitting. "and enjoy the show!" Q grinned at the Starfleet officers. "Don't mind me now! I'm just an observer now!"

"This isn't a social visit I gather?" Doctor Crusher raised an eyebrow at the annoyance.

"Well, he did mention my name!" Q pointed at Riker. "Considering I was watching anyway, it was only polite to show myself."

"Really?" Councilor Troy smiled sweetly at the intruder.

"Not really. I just know that your reactions to what will be happening in the coming months and years will be hilarious and I wanted to tell you 'I told you so!'!" Q motioned at Captain Picard. "We had this conversation when I introduced you to the Borg, Mon Capitan. It was a warning for your precious Federation, because for some unfathomable reason I quite like some of you. You didn't heed it." Q snapped. "Now it's time to reap the consequences as you humans are so fond of saying. I'll be around to gloat if you need me!" Q snapped his fingers and was gone. The room was once more it's usual dimensions.

"That wasn't reassuring." Riker commented and sipped his beverage.

"He's enjoying our predicament." Troy stated. "He was practically broadcasting how smug he was feeling."

"He's correct. Unfortunately." Geordi winced.

"More than you know." Jean-Luc added quietly. "We have our new orders."

After taking a glance at his captain, Riker wasn't reassured. "Nothing that you approve of, I take it?"

"We are meeting with some of the ships left in the closest sectors and heading for the Klingon border. The planet Tezwa to be precise."

"That's surprising. Weren't we supposed to reinforce Admiral Ross?"

"He's abandoning Starbase 375." Picard's expression was sour as if he had just bitten from a particularly bitter lemon. "The Admiral will be leaving the ships which can't keep up with the station to slow down the Dominion armada moving on his position."

"That's a death sentence!" Doctor Crusher exclaimed appalled. The Federation was better that this!

"For what's worth, the Admiral asked for volunteers to man the station and the ships left behind." Picard added, though the distaste could be clearly heard in his voice.

"What are our orders?" There was a trace of hope in Deana's voice.

Riker knew what she hoped for, though it was a long shot. Unlikely to make any difference in the end either.

"I'm sorry, Deana." Picard dashed them. "We won't be making our way to Betazed. All Starfleet units stationed in the region were ordered to either join us or make their way to Blue Horizon. Admiral Ross and every ship under his command that can keep up warp will be heading there."

"Starfleet Command is abandoning Betazed then?" Troy's voice was hollow.

"With a few exception Starfleet is pulling back all ships to the core sectors around Tellar, Vulcan, Andora and Earth. The main Dominion fleet is headed towards sector 001 as we speak."

"They intend to knock us out of the war." Riker nodded grimly.

"There is another strong fleet heading towards the Klingons."

"Makes sense. That way they can't help us even if they wanted to."

Geordi added glumly.

"That's why we have our orders. We are heading towards Tezwa. Apparently there's a network of nadion pulse canons build around and on that world."

"Ah. Ours?" Riker wanted to make sure.

The flat stare that Picard gave him was an answer enough.

"So we've broken the Khitomer Accords." Troy stated the obvious.

"We're ordered to join the Klingon fleet that survived Operation Return and lure the Dominion Fleet over that world. Command hopes that with the help of those emplacements we can seriously weaken their fleet."

"If this works, it will allow the Klingons to deal with whatever enemy ships survive in reasonably short order and provide us with assistance. Or at least tie up any additional reinforcements that arrive through the wormhole." Riker commented after he thought about it for a few moments. "Of course there's that glaring weakness with that plan."

"The Klingons won't be pleased to learn about those weapons." Doctor Crusher sounded less than amused.

"They might very well consider that an act of war." Deana added.

"They aren't really in position to attack the Federation, though it might be enough for them to withhold any further help once the Dominion forces in the vicinity are dealt with." Geordi commented.

"That's a risk we'll have to take." Picard leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking much older.

It left unsaid that most of the Starfleet officers were appalled by the very fact that the Federation had gone back on her word, breaking the treaty with the Klingons. No matter how useful that was going to prove right now.

The one who was taking it somewhat easier, was Riker. He was remembering what that woman told him, while they were back in the past. That the Federation officers were lucky, that they could afford to uphold their morality and principles, because of their tech, because they were safe and secure. If he had to be honest with himself, those words did have an impact, though it had been fading as time passed. The war helped him not only see, but understand what she meant.

The commander smiled sadly. If Operation Return had succeeded, if Sisco had pulled a damn miracle, he might have been able to convince himself that the woman was wrong. That the Federation could, would, uphold her principles no matter what.

Now he knew better. Unless someone in Starfleet Command back on Earth was delusional, there must be an extensive weapons network at their destination. The kind that takes years to build, especially if done in secret as it must have been, considering that it was illegal. That in turn meant that its construction must have began a few years before the second Borg attack and Enterprise's excursion to the past.

The old timer was right after all. So much for upholding the principles of the Federation.

The worst thing was that Riker was glad. Almost happy for those illegal weapons that awaited their arrival. Because even if it was flawed, the Federation was still much better, more enlightened than the Dominion. He really didn't want to think what would happen if the enemy won the war.


	5. ER Book 1 Chapter 1 Part 5

**AN: This short update wraps up chapter one. I'll start working on the next update in the next few days.**

 **This part was betaed by Mantech1 on the space battles forums and FPSlover on . Thank you for the great work!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 1: Consequences**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 5**

 **Secure Conference Room**

 **Presidential Palace**

 **Paris, France**

 **Earth**

"Admiral Roddenbery, Admiral Livingston." President Min Zife waved the two officers to sit. "I take it this isn't good news." The Bolian surmised as he saw their expressions.

"No, Mr. President." Starfleet's Chief of Staff Roddenbery responded. The older human looked like a ghost.

"That bad?" Years navigating political landmines and dealing with the Federation's power brokers made sure that Zife's face remained calm. It took him just a few moments to run through the major operations he was briefed on and find the probable culprit. "Operation Return." The President stated.

"Our fleet was defeated and forced to withdraw with heavy casualties. If Commander, John Sinclair hadn't rallied our forces and proceeded to lead a limited counter attack, we would have lost most of the fleet."

"Damn. So much for ending this war anytime soon." Min looked at the officers as his mind raced. Now he would have to find a way to force the assembly to approve getting to a war footing. There were already enemy units operating on the edges of the Terran and Vulcan sectors. They would be getting bolder now that many of the Starfleet vessels pulled out of those areas won't be coming back.

"It's much worse than that, sir." Admiral Livingston added.

"I'm going to like this even less." The President muttered. "Go on."

"The minefield blocking the wormhole is gone. A day ago, Dominion reinforcements numbering over three thousand ships poured through. Our first idea how wrong everything went was when Klingon ships which made it out of enemy jamming field informed Admiral Ross of the outcome. Two hours ago he got independent confirmation from leading elements of our surviving ships.

"I see." Zife's voice was quiet, almost resigned. "What's the enemy targeting?"

"About a thousand ships veered off towards the Klingon border. The rest are pursuing the survivors from Operation Return. They'll be hitting Starbase 375 in about sixteen hours."

"Then they'll be coming here." The President stated. "Remind me, what forces does Admiral Ross have at his disposal?"

"He can have about fifty ships there in time besides the remnants of Sixth Fleet which will arrive five or six hours before the enemy."

"What are his orders?"

"To hold at all costs. That enemy fleet can't be allowed a free reign in our core sectors." The Chief of Staff declared with conviction.

"That's it?" Zife shook his head. He knew that Roddenbery was a political appointment, a remnant of the previous administration that would be a problem, but this was pure idiocy. For a moment he wondered how many like him were spread amongst Starfleet's higher echelons. Something told him that there might be too many like them.

"The hell he is." The President stood straighter. "Once the remnants of Sixth fleet arrive, he is to pull back."

"But sir, this is our best opportunity to..."

"We had much better odds during Operation Return and we _still_ lost." Zife glared at the admiral. "Now I'm made to understand that the ships moving on Starbase 375 are the enemy's reinforcements, fresh, untouched warships. What do we have on hand that could stop them?" Zife glanced at Livingston.

"Nothing that's up to the job. We need time to rebuild and train new crews. Most importantly we need to start building true warships. Most of our current classes are simply outclassed by the enemy. Only the Sovereign, Defiant and Akiras have proven victorious. Our older ships need to outnumber the enemy by a significant margin to win."

"That might prove necessary." Roddenbery muttered. It was obviously hard for him to admit it. Until recently, the Admiral was one of the major proponents of the idea that Starfleet had no job being a military organization and should be concentrating on its exploration role.

Unless Zife had misjudged the man badly, the beginning of the war had been a huge shock for the Admiral. The fact that the Dominion ships were simply better in a fight ton for ton than most of the classes the Federation fielded wasn't helping him either. Yet, despite that, the Chief of Staff has been busting his ass to do everything he could, so the boys and girls on the front-lines got what they needed.

Unfortunately, neither of them had much to work with.

"Computer, bring up galaxy map. Zoom in on the border between the Federation, Klingon Empire and Cardassian Union." The President as he turned his chair to better focus on the large viewer installed behind his desk.

Moments later, he was looking at the star map. "Show Starfleet and allied deployments as well as known Dominion forces." The map lit up with blue, green and red dots.

It was easy to find the symbols representing the remnants of Sixth fleet as they were pursued by a large red blob near four times their size. The closest major Federation force was Fifth fleet which was about a week away, which was the reason in didn't participate in Operation Return.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, what major forces we have left are Third and Fourth fleets, protecting Earth, Andora and Vulcan."

"Most of Fourth fleet is spread throughout the Terran and Vulcan sectors dealing with Dominion incursions." Admiral Livingston corrected.

"Gentlemen, do we have the forces at hand to stop that Dominion Armada before it can bombard one of the Core worlds?" Zife pointed at the red blob on the map that was getting closer and closer to Starbase 375.

"In theory." The Chief of Staff answered. "While we have an edge in numbers, however most of those are older classes or refits. Not up to par with Dominion warships on one one. Further, only Andora has planetary defenses on par with what we had during the previous century. Here on Earth we still have planetary shields but the remaining phaser batteries and proton torpedo launchers haven't really been upgraded since Kirk's time."

"That won't buy us more than an hour against a modern force. At best." Livingston added.

The President closed his eyes. "And if the Dominion sends another such fleet through the wormhole?" He asked.

"We won't have the forces to stop them." Roddenbery answered. "We have a good chance of stopping the enemy fleet coming our way right now, though even if everything goes right, they'll still cause a lot of damage."

"Worst case?"

"That armada heading our way knocks us out of the war."

Zife stared at the map and the small groups of friendly forces in the active conflict zone. "Computer, zoom out. Show Starfleet forces deployed across the Federation." He ordered. The image shifted and lit up with blue icons. "Pull them out. Whoever can reach the core sectors before the armada is to head our way. The rest are to head for the Klingon border and assist our allies in stopping the Dominion." The President paused and turned around to stare at the two stunned admirals.

"Sir, you can't mean that!" Roddenbery exclaimed. "The consequences..."

"I'm aware of what I just ordered." Zife's voice was cold. "The Federation has been complacent ever since we signed up the Kithomer Accords. Even the Borg weren't a big enough wake up call. Now it's time to pay up for our hubris."

"Sir, your orders call for abandoning large trackts of the Federation." Admiral Livingston spoke quietly, disbelief evident in his voice.

"I am the elected leader of trillions." The president stated. "I can no longer afford to make policy on the basis of _best case scenarios or wishful thinking_." Zife's voice was cold. "More than sixty percent of the Federation's industry is concentrated in the Core sectors, along with eighty percent of our heavy shipbuilding capacity. If we lose them the war is over." The President fixed the two admirals with a piercing stare. "I will be dealing with the Assembly once we're done here. Pray that for once they would show a tiny modicum of common sense. Now what do you need to win this war, if the enemy has another such fleet or two in reserve?" Zife asked. "I'll do my best to get it to you, no matter the political consequences."

The admirals looked at each other. Roddenbery shook his head in attempt to clear up his thoughts and began speaking. "We need a crash-build program for new ships. Military refits of what reserves we still have, new classes of dedicated warships. Which means expansion of all existing shipyards and the building of new ones." He nodded to Livingston.

"We need more bodies. Trained soldiers to help either hold or retake worlds the enemy has taken. New equipment for those, though both those items are secondary. We need trained starship crews. I need permission to recall all retired crewmen who are fit for duty. We need to expand recruitment or even start conscription and start training those people."

"That would be a very hard sell." The President winced. The Assembly would soon be vying for his blood.

"It's what we damn well need, sir."

Zife looked them in the eyes for a few moments. "You don't believe it will be enough."

"Oh, it will be. If we can survive for a couple of years." Admiral Livingston answered.

"And that Mr. President is the clinch. If the enemy has more reinforcements to send..." Roddenbery trailed off.

"I'll call the Diplomatic corps and lite a fire under them. We need the Romulans. They're the only remaining major power in the Quadrant that is uncommitted."

"If they actually agree to help us and come through with it, the price will be steep."

"It's not like we have much of a choice." The President turned around to stare at the map. "Computer, zoom in on Tezwa. Show me projected course for Dominion forces heading towards the Klingon Empire. What are the odds that our allies can assist us if that fleet can be dealt with soon?" Zife asked.

"Low. Oh, they might be able to interdict Cardassian and Dominion forces in the sectors near the Empire, perhaps even staging raids in force to keep some of the enemy attention on themselves. However, they're simply too far away to assist with the fleet coming our way." Livingston summarized the situation.

"It will have to be good enough. Admiral Roddenbery, who do we have in that area that the Klingons respect or even trust?"

"You are aware that this would probably piss them off?"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

Roddenbery leaned forward and examined the map. "That's the Enterprise." He pointed at a certain cluster of symbols between Starbase 375 and the Klingon border.

"They'll have to do. Cut the necessary orders. I just hope for all our sakes that Picard is his usual competent self. I'll need detailed propositions for fleet, shipbuilding and recruitment expansion and for now hopefully limited conscription in a few hours, when I'll go in front of the Assembly."

"We'll get them ready in time, Mr. President."


	6. ER Book 1 Chapter 2 Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 2: Aftermath**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 1**

 **United Earth Booth**

 **Federation Assembly**

 **Paris  
Earth**

"This is going to be fun." Prime Minister Roberta Klein muttered.

"Every time our blue friend is on the warpath, it's something to behold." A nondescript man sitting behind the minister nodded. He was a middle aged human, virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the minister's aides, who were conspicuously missing from the booth.

"Is this all we are worth?" Forwan Tran, the Andorian delegate's eyes swept over the assembled senators. "Is this how the Federation dies?!" His antennas twitched in anger.

Shocked gasps and cries of outrage in multiple languages were the only coherent answer he got.

"Because that's what I see here and now! It isn't a Dominion armada above our heads that is the greatest danger for the Federation! It's not the defeat Starfleet suffered yesterday! ITS US!" Tran raised his voice so he could be heard. "We, the leaders of the Federation are failing her! Have been failing her for years and now the consequences are laid for all to see!" The Andorian pointed at the ceiling. "Even as we speak, a hundred ships crewed with people from all corners of the Federation are preparing to meet a Dominion Armada that outnumbers them twenty to one! Volunteers every one of them! Beings ready to lay down their lives for something bigger than themselves. For the Federation. For every one of your worlds." Tran's glare intensified. "They will soon fight and die to buy us time. So we can build more ships, train crews, prepare for the coming onslaught! Yet, that's not what I saw here today." Forwan's voice became quieter. It started filling up with overtones of disgust. "I see beings ready to spit to all the sacrifices Starfleet has been making since the time of President Archer, in a forlorn hope that the Dominion might be appeased. I see beings who consider their replicator previlegies more important than stopping an enemy bent on destroying our way of life, our very culture!"

The cries of protest grew in intensity.

"Even worse, I see beings who are content to use the Federation's goodwill, reap the rewards that a come with a membership, yet now that the time has come to pay the price for mutual protection, many of you balk at it! As long as you don't have to make any sacrifice for it!" Tran looked pointedly at certain senators and there were very many of them. "Where are the ships build or financed by your worlds? How many of your people serve in Starfleet? How many will now enlist, when there is an enemy at our very doorstep?" The Andorian paused, while his accusing eyes swept over the delegates. "I didn't hear a single one of you making a proposition how to help fix the predicament we are facing now. Just accusations. Demands for protection, when you were content to make just a token contribution to Starfleet in either people or resources. I'll admit, this is not just the fault of individual senators and the worlds they represent. Every last one of us is to blame. Ever since Kirk's time when the Khitomer Accords were signed, this assembly was keen on making Starfleet just an exploration organization. Many of you scoffed with derision every time when someone pointed out that we needed dedicated warships to keep the Federation safe." Tran took a deep breath. "I know why as well as you." He growled. "It was a choice to be made. Between an easy life and powerful Starfleet, one that could guarantee our security against any conceivable threat. Dominion included. We all know what was voted and why."

"Can't say that I disagree." The "aide" quipped.

"Oh, my predecessors knew what they were doing. I'll wager that most of the delegates of that time knew as well. However, it was inevitable if we were to remain a democracy. After all, it wasn't much they could do when most citizens of the Federation started demanding replicators." The Prime Minister mussed.

"It was replicators with the necessary upgrade of the power network across most of the Federation or strong Starfleet." The nondescript man stated. "We're well aware of that. With no enemy to justify more military spendings..." The man shrugged. What he didn't say aloud was that his agency fucked up royally at the time. Their attempts to manufacture a credible threat failed, in no small part thanks to the Romulans of that era. Who would have thought that they would be downright reasonable?! It reality, the reason didn't particularly matter nowadays. All that was important was that his agency's efforts to safeguard a Federation that was too principled for its own good were coming to a naught.

Now it was time for extraordinary measures.

"How do you think this circus will end?" He asked the Prime Minister.

"Barring a divine intervention nothing constructive would happen. Some believe that even now Starfleet can pull off a miracle." Roberta answered.

"They'll do their best, though its unlikely to be enough. The fleet will be unable to deal with the Dominion unless all of the President's proposals are ratified today and actually implemented." The agent mused.

"You know something."

"Many things. There are good odds that the Dominion has at least another such fleet ready to reinforce their forces here. There are good odds that Starfleet might beat the force headed for us. However there won't be much left of it after the dust settles."

"Damn." Roberta cursed quietly and returned her attention to the Andorian's Delegate speech.

"Really?!" Tran sneered at one of the delegates. "So you'll have Starfleet protect your world or else? What do you have that makes your planet more important than the rest within the Federation? Do you have mines for rare resources needed in ship building? Do you people make enlist in Starfleet in droves? Or perhaps the lack of any shipyards of note in your whole star system is the reason why you want the fleet to station a significant number of our remaining ships? Open your eyes people!" The Andorian shouted. "We are facing defeat, one of our own making! It's because of us, our policies, that Starfleet can't afford to protect every single world in the Federation! Not even most major worlds can warrant a significant presence and I'll tell you what! Because Starfleet was made largely of obsolete vessels, many of which were destroyed in the last few months. Now there is one simple bloody choice! Either the fleet protects the absolute critical locations for the prosecution of the war – major shipyards, recruitment and training centers as well as important mining operations or we can simply vote to surrender right now! Because doing anything else will see us losing the war anyway, though it will be after a much higher body count! Is this what you want?! Make you damn minds!"

"It looks like the Vulcan Ambassador was expecting you to make such a speech." The agent stated.

"I compared notes with Tran." Roberta smirked.

"Ah. I can make an educated guess what you were discussing before this show started."

"It should be obvious unless you've lost all you wits. Like many of my esteemed colleagues." Klein grumbled.

"So I can guarantee to my superiors that you won't let Earth fall even if nothing is decided today?" The man smiled.

"My duty is to the Terran people and I'll discharge it to the best of my ability. You can be sure of that."

"That's all we can ask, Prime Minister." The agent sounded relieved.

They both returned their attention to the podium.

"This was a nice, rousing speech." Another delegate was speaking now that Tran had said his piece. "Isn't it interesting how some people are so keen on defending Starfleet's failures? The abhorrent decision to abandon large tracks of the Federation so it's oldest members can be the defended? What about us?! Are we to bleed and burn so you can feel secure? Or were the promises given when we joined bold lies?! My world is new to the Federation, yet we build ships, provide people for Starfleet. However, as of four hours ago there are no more fleet units in our system, despite the fact that there are Dominion ships in the sector. Why should we bleed for your mistakes?!"

"You suspected." Roberta stated to the man posing as one of her assistants.

"We had no illusions what would happen if Starfleet ever suffered a major defeat and was forced to abandon tracks of the Federation, though the situation is rather grimmer than our projections." The agent sounded far from happy. "Self interest at its best."

"I should have seen it too. The worst is that I can't even blame a lot of them. Those on the fringe worlds were the ones screaming loudest that Starfleet needed to be stronger." The Prime Minister mused.

"And now they will be the first to burn." The agent in disguise stated.

"Can you do something about them?"

"We lack the assets. What few ships we have are busy behind enemy lines or are being made available to Starfleet for the defense of the Core sectors."

"Pity. The vote will be soon."

"If you say so. You are better at reading this crowd than me." He was glad that dealing with the Assembly wasn't part of his usual duties.

"A lot of bitter experience." The Prime Minister quipped.

"When will you call in the senate?" The agent changed the topic.

"In two days. I need to lay the rest of the groundwork as well as coordinate with Tran."

"What about the Vulcans?"

"They haven't decided yet. It wasn't logical to do so before seeing what the Assembly would do."

"How typical." Under other circumstances their position might have been logical, though the agent would be very much surprised if something positive came from this Assembly meeting.

"Will you do your part? We'll need those designs." Roberta asked.

"We have our best people working on it. We'll have multiple designs ready withing the week. You'll have to make sure that enough are built and crewed so Earth won't fall."

"I'll do what I can. And then some. Let's just hope that Starfleet will be able to hold."

"It's been some time since anything went even close to a best case scenario." The disguised man shrugged.

"I know. The Federation finally ran out of it's copious reserves of luck." Roberta smiled sadly.

"Luck? Yes we had our fair share of it. It's not luck or the lack of it that is the problem. We are facing a doom of our own making. The Federation has always been too rooted in it's principles, too willing to see the best of people and the galaxy at large." There was an angry edge to the agent's voice.

"You know, before this mess I would have disagreed with you. I would have said that our diversity, our willingness to include new members made us stronger." Roberta spoke softly.

"That could have been the case if it was managed sensibly. Was it too much to ask for a small number of each words population to mandatory serve in Starfleet and a reasonable percent of each planetary budged to go into defense? If that was the case we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"I'm a convert, so you don't have to preach to the choir." Roberta smiled. "Convincing enough of the Federation so we can end this war soon and avoid a real bloodbath would be the issue."

"We both know how unlikely that is."

"We've been at this for hours!" President Zife stood up once another delegate finished her speech. "There are many unconvinced that the measures that I proposed are necessary. Some call me a warmonger. A tyrant in the making. Others simply don't believe that the war will come to their doorstep even if the Dominion runs unchecked through the Core sectors." The President had a thunderous expression as he spoke. "The worst however, is that many of you believe that they owe the Federation nothing now that they've gotten what they need from it. That there is no need to sacrifice on it's behalf. There are those that are justly feeling betrayed, because frankly, Starfleet is in no condition to protect their words even we deploy what little ships we have left. Unfortunately the latter is true." Zife took a deep breath, centering himself. "That's why I made this proposition. They the bare minimum that Starfleet needs to become the force able to protect us all. Let's be frank. As Senator Tran said, Starfleet has been neglected for too long. It was made into a peaceful, exploration organization, with defense function tackled as an afterthought. That was an act of hubris by our predecessors and now we are left to reap the consequences. Now it is time to make a choice.

We can either do what is necessary, what is right and give Starfleet the tools needed to see us through this crisis." The President paused. "Or we can continue to bicker. I call a vote..."


	7. ER Book 1 Chapter 2 Parts 2&3

**AN: This is my first time writing a Star Trek space battle. Please give me some feedback.**

 **If someone is willing to beta this update, I'll appreciate it!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 2: Aftermath**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 2**

 **Bridge**

 **USS Archer**

 **Starbase 375**

Newly promoted Rear Admiral Tasam jav War fingered his rank insignia placed on the collar of his uniform.

"This has to be some kind of record." He grunted.

"Which? Our promotions? Or the fact that you'll probably be the shortest serving Admiral in the history of Starfleet?"

The brand new Captain of the old Constitution class cruiser smirked, his antennas twitching in amusement.

"Damn, disrespectful bug." The Tellarite Admiral growled at his old academy roommate.

"Insolent mud loving barbarian."

"That's Mr. Barbarian, sir to you Quel. Status of the fleet?" War asked.

"As good as can be expected." The Andorian Captain answered after glancing at the tactical station he was sitting at. "Most ships will be able to take a hit or two before flying apart. A few are even marginally combat capable."

"It's because that rude Chief Engineer of ours."

"She'll never forgive us. You know that, right?"

"She'll be more useful back home making sure that our new ships perform up to speck. There's no need for her dieing with us."

"Oh, so there is a reason we volunteered? Besides the trill I mean?" Quel grinned.

There were many reasons why the two of them volunteered. Just like the rest of the thousand men and women spread through the fleet of cripples and the station they were surrounding in a loose protective formation.

For some it was the sense of duty; to the Federation as a whole, to their people, to their homeworlds. For others, it was sheer stubbornest, refusing to leave longtime friends to face the oncoming storm alone.

For War and Quel, it was all of the above, yet there was another simple reason – this was a job needed doing. The Dominion onslaught had to be slowed down. The Federation needed all the time that they could buy with their lives. It needed them to sell those very lives for as high cost as they could.

Then there was another reason why some chose to stay behind and face certain annihilation. It wasn't a reason Starfleet or the Federation as a whole would have found acceptable. Those were people for whom the veneer of civilization prevalent in their homes had slipped. They had lost friends and loved ones to the Dominion.

Those were people who wanted a pound of flesh from the enemy and damn the consequences.

If War had to be honest to himself, the last was somewhat true for him as well. During the last battle, the Archer suffered heavily, loosing a third of her crew. Friends, who Tasam would have been proud to call family… and a certain Lieutenant-Commander who might have been something more had she survived the battle.

War shook his head and smirked at his friend.

"Buggy, there must have been a reason why I liked you, but right now I can't think of anything." The Admiral shook his head, though a small smile appeared on his snout.

"It's my charming personality."

"It must be. You make most of my people downright nice and welcoming by comparison. Is our little surprise ready?"

"I'll check. Starbase 375 this is Archer Actual, please respond. What is the status of our welcoming gift?"

"Nominal. It's eagerly awaiting out uninvited guests." The response came a few seconds later.

"Good." The Admiral smiled. There was nothing nice about his expression. It was downright bloodthirsty even.

An alarm sounded on the bridge, before it was promptly shut down.

"They are almost here." Quel announced.

"Well, it's been honor buggy." The Admiral spoke without his usual vitriol.

"Heh. Same here."

"Have the fleet assume formation Gama Four around the Starbase. Put tactical on the main viewer. Launch fighters"

"Done."

The picture on the main viewer changed, showing Starbase 375 and the Starfleet units arrayed around it. The Peregrine fighters stationed on the station launched and took their assigned positions. A moment later the icon designated the base changed color showing that it's planetary grade defensive shields were at full power.

"All ships reporting ready for combat." The Comm operator, who had been silent so far, announced.

"Leading enemy elements are a minute out." Quel stated.

Thanks to Starbase 375's powerful sensors, any attempts on the Dominion side to be cute by playing with their ECM was futile. The enemy approach was clearly visible through out the last fifteen light years of travel.

"Enemy vanguard is accelerating." Quel announced.

"They intent to blow through and not even slow down the main body of the fleet." War surmised. The Admiral looked at the icons of his forces. Five Constitution class vessels, with his own being in the best condition. Twenty damaged Streamrunners, two Interprids who couldn't pull more than warp four without significant dock time, but otherwise mostly intact. They were surrounded by wings of Akira's which had various amounts of damage as well as five Defiant class that were able to barely limp to the station before their warp drives refused to be further abused.

Two hundred Jem'Hadar attack ships, backed by forty large cruisers and seven huge battleships were racing towards them at breakneck velocity. Even if his fleet was made up by intact vessels, War didn't believe that he would be able to stop such enemy numbers. Even worse, while only a fraction of the Dominion fleet was about to engage him, that wasn't an actual mistake on their part. Feeding even more of their ships in the imminent attack would have meant that the Jem'Hadar would be getting in each others way, hindering their efforts. The Dominion was about to hit him with just the correct number to maximize their firepower for the engagement, given the width and breath of his own formation.

"Enemy is dropping out of warp. Distance – five hundred thousand kilometers. They are shifting their formation and advancing at slow impulse." Quel announced.

"So a modified phalanx formation with the expendable attack ships used as a screen." The Admiral mused.

"One of those is a significant danger to us considering our condition." The Captain cautioned.

"I'm well aware. It was those little gnats that nearly killed us a few days ago." War grumbled. "Fire plan Alpha 3. Spring the surprise."

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 3**

 **Bridge**

" **Honor the Founders"**

 **Dominion Battleship 6474**

 **In the vicinity of Starbase 375**

Elder Kar'ukan, by the grace of the Gods, the military leader of the Dominion reinforcements, was busy examining the long range sensor readings. The Federation survivors that made it out of the botched trap sprang by Weyoun and his Cardassian pet were fleeing before his might. He almost smiled at the thought.

A young, untested Jem'Hadar might have believed in that lie. The average Vorta would lap it up.

Kar'ukan didn't become one of the oldest of his kind by being an arrogant fool. The enemy wasn't fleeing because they were overawed by the Dominion's might as they should have been, they weren't fleeing in disarray after being crushed, but because it was the prudent thing to do. It was obvious that they wouldn't oblige him by giving a futile battle in which they would be inevitably annihilated.

Instead, the enemy was preserving what strength they had left.

What he was pursuing was a far cry from the all but destroyed Federation remnants that Weyoun and Ducat had promised Loriss and him on their arrival in this Gods forsaken part of the galaxy. Kar'ukan had gone through only a fraction of the reports on the war so far and it was enough for him to make his own conclusions, which were confirmed by Loriss after she examined the same data.

This wasn't the simple, easy conquest in the name of the Founders that was presented to the Dominion as a whole. Even if the Jem'Hadar were wining as they should be if his people wanted to continue living. Reading between the lines of Weyoun's reports and more importantly, going over the ones made by the actual soldiers fighting the war, he was made aware of quite different picture.

Victory was a foregone conclusion only if the enemy could be crushed soon. The Federation and their allies were vast, comparable to the Dominion itself in territory and resources. Further, now the war was being fought in their territory, greatly simplifying the enemy's supply situation.

Kar'ukan browsed through his datapad until he was looking at the estimated enemy loses to date and the information for their pre-war strength. It took him only moments to find the trend.

The main reason the Dominion was winning was the quality of the opposition or the lack of one. The bulk of the Federation fleets were made of old designs, ships that should have been sent to the breakers decades ago. On the rare occasions when the enemy's new designs were out in numbers, they were technologically equal to the Dominion craft, though more often than not the Jem'Hadar won thanks to their superior skill as soldiers and the ability to leverage their numbers in tactical engagements.

The conclusion was obvious – if the Federation was given time to start building their modern classes in significant numbers, the war would be prolonged. Many Jem'Hadar would have to sacrifice their lives to the Gods if he let that happen. That's why, once the situation on this side of the wormhole became clear, Kar'ukan gathered two thirds of the reinforcing fleet and headed towards the Federation's proper. A course that led him and his soldiers to this place.

Mere light years away was Starbase 375, the command and control hub for the whole Federation front. A target, which should have been destroyed months ago, while it was a critical for the enemy war effort.

Now, that place was something else. It didn't take a military genius to know what would happen. There were only two logical choices. Either the battered Federation fleet he was tailing would stop for a desperate last stand, in which case it would be destroyed, making Kar'ukan's job that much easier… or they would continue retreating.

The long range sensors showed the truth. The enemy wasn't feeling particularly charitable today. There was a token force left behind, about a hundred or so. Probably the cripples that couldn't keep with the rest of the fleet. They and the base around which those ships were arrayed presented a nasty little problem.

Simply put, Kar'ukan couldn't afford to leave them behind. After consulting with Loriss, he had ordered a general offensive by all Dominion Forces on this side of the Wormhole and their Cardassian allies. Which meant that there would be a lot less friendly ships in what was quickly becoming rear areas for the Jem'Hadar forces. If the Starbase could patch up some of the vessels guarding it, they could prove troublesome at a time when his fleet would be operating on the far end of a rather extended supply line.

That could not be borne. Starbase 375 and her defenders needed to die.

So they would. The Elder allowed himself a small smile. They could prove of some use before expiring. He needed to see first hand how the Federation soldiers waged war.

"Fifteen Battleship Division, Third through Ninth Cruiser Divisions and Twenty Seventh through Forty Seventh Attack Ship Wings assemble into Formation Ront-Six. Accelerate to Warp nine point eight until you are five hundred thousand kilometers from the enemy force, then drop from warp. You are to proceed at impulse, while maintaining formation and eliminate any and all resistance." Kar'ukan ordered calmly.

It was time to see what the Federation was made of.

 **=HDD=**

The assault began as a textbook maneuver. A phalanx of capital ships, screened by a wall of light escorts flew straight at the enemy. The formation was meant to maximize the Dominion firepower at the point of contact, while the escorts which were viewed as mostly expendable, absorbed the enemy counterstrike.

Conventional wisdom dictated that overwhelming the Starbase, which was the lynchpin of the enemy defense was critical. To do so, a great concentration of firepower was needed. The crippled ships arrayed into a defensive formation were little more than afterthought even if a lot of them were made by a modern designs.

The Jem'Hadar fleet opened fire at four hundred thousand kilometers, which was usually beyond effective range, because energy weapons lost a too much hitting power at such a distance. While torpedoes could easily track targets at much greater engagement envelope, it was usually a waste to try using them so. Simply put, modern ships could easily shoot down a spread of torpedoes over anything but two to three hundred thousand kilometers. Or in some cases simply outrun them.

When one fleet was bound to defend something stationary, that changed the parameters of an engagement. It was much worse, when one side was made by crippled ships, which had to be carefully arrayed so their most damaged sides were covered by their consorts. That made the Starfleet detachment facing a solid wall of enemy ships little more than stationary weapon platforms, waiting for the Dominion to come to them.

Scores of Polaron beams splashed over weakened shields, each of them individually too weak to pose any threat. Even when combined, the energy onslaught would have been a lot threat for a hale ships.

All Starfleet vessels were damaged to one extent or another. While almost half of them had their shields working up to speck thanks to backbreaking work of hundreds of engineers, the rest weren't so lucky.

The first round of the engagement lasted a mere two seconds, until the Dominion warships were in effective range. Each of them cycled a couple of shots from their forward mounted Polaron beam arrays.

At that distance, hitting practically stationary targets was child's play. While most of the shots wasted themselves on full strength shields, more than enough struck ships with weakened defenses. Two wings of Attack Ships poured their fire on a particularly unlucky Akira, the USS Kelvin. Her shields flared for half a second before overloading. Her scoured hull held the dispersed beams of Polaron death for milliseconds, before the beams burnt through, cutting into the magazine chock full with loaded photon torpedoes. At almost the same time, a single beam speared the Warp Core, turning the proud ship into a short lived star.

The Kelvin didn't go alone in the long night. The defenses of six other ships proved not to be up to the task, becoming drifting wrecks or sharing their sister's fate.

The one sided slaughter came to an abrupt end as soon as it began. One moment the Dominion ships were firing unchallenged, in the next they slammed into a killing field of phaser fire and photon torpedoes.

Then Starbase 375 spoke with lances of orange energy fed by her powerful reactor.

The next phase of the battle lasted for just a heartbeat… and both sides got what they wanted from the engagement.

The modified phalanx formation in which Kar'ukan sent his vanguard proved to be deadly effective. The smaller Federation force facing it simply melted under the concentrated firepower of whole divisions of heavy ships and their escorts. The light craft leading the charge absorbed the desperate fire of the Federation Task Force, dying to protect the more valuable vessels in the rear.

Phasers eviscerated attack craft. Photon torpedoes bathed the front of the enemy formation in the fury of newborn stars, overloading shields and tearing apart the Jem'Hadar screening elements. In the same breath, concentrated Polaron beams and a wave of torpedoes proved too much for the battered defenders. The Starfleet Task Force simply melted when met the concentrated firepower of the whole Dominion formation. Only a few of the old, but robust Constitution cruisers survived for more than a handful of seconds.

 **=HDD=**

 **Bridge**

 **USS Archer**

 **Starbase 375**

War was thrown like a rag-doll when something slammed into the forward shields and nearly shook the ship apart. It took him a few moments to get back his bearing and figure out that he was still alive, which was a surprise.

"Hey, buggy, you still here?" The Tellarite Admiral whispered through bloody lips.

War looked around and winced. Quil was thrown all the way to the main viewer. The Admiral's old friend was laying on the ground, unnaturally still. It had something to do with the way the Andorian's neck was twisted, Tasam mused.

"Damn, you had to go and die on me, didn't ya?" War coughed a glob of blood. He shifted his eyes from what used to be his best friend to the viewer above the body. By some miracle, the device was still working and displaying tactical data.

Which was as worse than he had expected when planning this last stand. The Starfleet battle group was practically gone. There were only four blinking red icons designating critically damaged vessels. Never, even in hid darkest dreams, did he imagine that his first and last command would survive mere seconds. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the effect of that much concentrated firepower.

Only the amber symbol of Starbase 375, which had the attention of the whole enemy force, remained intact. Hundreds of energy beams and scores of torpedoes were slamming into the station's shields, which were built to withstand precisely this kind of abuse.

Tran smiled at the sight. His shock was turning into anger, which in turn morphed into a dark humor. The enemy was a hundred thousand kilometers from the Starbase, unloading everything they had at her. At least that part of his plan had worked.

The old girl was giving as good as she was taking, cutting apart enemy ships with titanic spears of phased energy or erasing them from existence with spreads of photon torpedoes.

To counteract that, the Dominion was using a textbook assault meant to overwhelm the station as fast as possible in order to minimize. Just as planned for.

Starbase 375's icon changed into red as her shields weakened.

Admiral War grinned viciously.

The station's commander did what was expected from him, collapsing the defensive shields so they would envelop only the main body of his command. That in turn let the hangars protected only by their armor and structural fields, which would have lasted mere moments under the onslaught. The station stopped firing phasers, redirecting the energy to the shield grid, which was about to collapse.

Then it was buffered by twin explosions, which disrupted the enemy's sensors for a couple of seconds.

That was the hangars blowing up.

From a certain point of view, two seconds could be a long, long time. It was more than enough time for additional targeting computers and their sensors to come on line. For those systems to lock on targets and start feeding information to the weapons they controlled.

Weapons, which were now uncovered by the upper half of Starbase 375 hangar's blowing up.

Two thousand photon torpedoes gleefully donated from the retreating Starfleet were launched from makeshift platforms, which took most of the hangar's inner space. Each deadly projectile was guided by the additional targeting computers installed on the Starbase.

A wall of red projectiles slammed into the Dominion force less than a second before the Jem'Hadar could be startled by proximity alarms blaring on their bridges. It wasn't enough time for even the computers set on automatic to notice the new threat and react.

Two hundred Dominion ships were greeted by ten torpedoes apiece, though not all reached their targets. A few blew up intersecting the constant barrage landing upon the station.

However, most made it. The forward elements of the phalanx simply disintegrated when struck by fifteen kilos of antimatter apiece. The light Attack Ships simply didn't stand a chance. However, they didn't die in vain. As the first enemy ships dies, the cascading waves of explosions started distorting Starbase 375's sensor grid. As the destruction spread, individual torpedoes lost the carrier wave guiding them to their targets and went seeking a new victim. Some found new targets, making sure that there wasn't anything left from some enemy ships. Others were damaged by multiple near explosions, even their reinforced systems no match for the fury unleashed upon the Dominion formation.

A minute later, when the explosions finally ceased, it was all over.

Starbase 375 was a burning wreck, after her shields had failed during the last moments of the enemy attack.

The Dominion paid a steep price for their victory. One hundred and twelve Attack Ships, four Cruisers and one Battleships were erased from the universe during the short, but furious exchange. Of the rest, more than half were heavily damaged and in need of dock time.

Admiral Tasam jav War never knew the final tally. His bloodshot eyes widened with utter glee as the torpedoes hit home.

"Beautiful..." The Tellarite rasped and laid still. His eyes lost focus and soon glazed, still staring at the main viewer.


	8. ER Book 1 Chapter 2 Part 4

**AN: This part was betaed by Mighty Bob on the space battles forums! Thank you very much for the time and effort you put in cleaning up this part!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 2: Aftermath**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 4**

* * *

 **Chief of Staff Roddenbery's Office**

 **Starfleet Command**

 **Earth**

Admiral Roddenbery ignored his subordinates for a moment, lost in his thoughts. His eyes briefly gazed over the tasteful decorations of his office, made up mostly by various trinkets that had gotten his interest during his time as first officer and later captain of various starships. Amongst the alien curiosities, there was a carefully chosen space where his commendations were framed.

Things that he had been proud of.

None of that mattered any more. His distinguished career, crowned by his current tour of duty as Starfleet's Chief of Staff was all but over, sacrificed in a desperate attempt to appease the public. Because the citizens of the Federation wanted, needed someone to blame for the failure of Operation Return… and they had to get their pound of flesh in order to preserve what little stability was left.

In the end, it was inevitable, he thought. After all, ultimately it was his decision to green-light the gamble, fully knowing how much of a long shot it was. Yet, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. The chance for Sisko to pull off another miracle was not insignificant and a success would have shortened the war by years. At least that's how he explained it to the Senate committee with which he had to meet yesterday. Considering that it was an open to the public circus, he spoke the truth, too.

Just not all of it.

Thanks to his position and long years of service within Starfleet, Roddenbery knew better than most how the Federation and it's "unarmed" forces were faring in this war. He knew that they weren't ready for this conflict even after the wake up calls that were the two Borg incursions. Starfleet needed years to renew the fleet, train new crews and most importantly, to start transitioning from the mindset of being explorers and scientists first, and everything else second. Hell, before the Borg, there were voices amongst the Flag Officers within Starfleet Command arguing that the tactical track was all but obsolete!

Now they knew better… well at least some of them. The problem was the Core Worlds, where a significant percent of the whole Federation population was located, kept safe and secure by Starfleet. Which ironically was the problem. Those people had a huge say in how the Federation as a whole and Starfleet as particular operated, however they had no real reason to make sacrifices for their own security. More often than not it was taken for granted, because with the exception of the Borg incursion, they and their worlds haven't been under any credible threat in decades, more than a century for some. The various incidents or even border wars like the one with the Cardassians, were something distant, something happening months away at maximum warp.

It wasn't their problem.

Until the present crisis and yet, now that the whole Federation was threatened, most people in the Core Worlds simply refused to believe that it was their problem. That the war would come to their doorstep. And even if it did, they were likely going to blame Starfleet for failing to protect them.

Roddenbery sighed. Starfleet was locked into a war that it was slowly losing in the months before Operation Return. Though at least that was poised to change once the new construction laid amongst all operational yards within the Federation was completed… provided that the enemy wasn't free to reinforce. The rest of Starfleet Command and the Chiefs of Staff were banking on being ready to retake DS9, before the Dominion found a way to dismantle the minefield. When it was apparent that wasn't going to happen, authorizing Operation Return was a no-brainier. The only thing he wanted to do after that was a political impossibility before the battle was resolved – recalling all Starfleet units to the Core sectors and practically abandoning huge tracts of the Federation he was sworn to protect.

That was the hardest order he had ever given. It would be one of his last too.

Nevertheless it was inevitable. With Starfleet simply lacking the hulls to properly patrol and defend its vast territory, it wasn't an uncommon to have a handful of ships responsible for whole sectors. Unsurprising really when one considers that the Federation was more than eight thousand light years across two galactic quadrants. To properly police and defend that space, Starfleet needed orders of magnitude more ships than it had before the war started... reserves and mothballed hulls included.

The Admiral shook himself out of his dark thoughts and returned his attention to his guests. The man nominally in charge of Starfleet looked at the Flag Officers sitting on the other side of his desk. Both Livingston and Nechayev looked properly grim, not that he could blame them given the mess they all found themselves in.

"You've gone over the reports?" Roddenbery asked quietly.

"Our friends in Intelligence were thorough." Nechayev stated.

"I'm aware of the ramifications as well." Livingston nodded.

"Needless to say, our acquaintances in the Assembly made our work much harder." The Chief of Staff mused.

"That's an understatement." Alyanna's chuckled darkly. "They would probably undo most of the benefits we got from yesterday's circus."

They all knew that the Assembly was gathered while they spoke and none of the officers looked forward to any decision the politicians might make today. While, thanks to the Andorian Representative, Starfleet now had its hands untied in regards of wartime economy and limited conscription, it now appeared that it might be all for naught.

"I'll be replaced by the end of the week." Roddenbery fixed his two old friends with a tired stare. "I've spoken with the President about it and he'll have my resignation, though I fear that neither the Senate, nor the Assembly would be satisfied with only my head going to the chopping block. The good news is that I convinced the President not to sack you two as well, though in a few days there will be a lot less Admirals in this building."

"So they are purging us." Livingston grunted, resenting the very thought. While he was well aware that some of the problems Starfleet was facing was of its own making, a lot of the blame not only could, but must be laid on the feet of the Senate and General Assembly. After all, it was the politicians who dictated policy and set the budged and thus ensured the the fleet didn't have the needed numbers to do it's job.

"Its inevitable. The ordinary citizens still believe in Starfleet, something we will sorely need in the coming months. As the man in charge, I would have been blamed for this mess anyway." Roddenbery smiled grimly. He was aware that his career was over the moment he learned of Sisco's failure, not that he had the time to ponder on that until now.

"We'll have a hard enough task in rebuilding the Fleet and stopping what the Dominion is throwing at us right now even without losing most of High Command." Nechayev grumbled through clenched teeth. She didn't even attempt to hide her displeasure at the news. While there were a lot of chaff within Starfleet's higher echelons, mainly people who refused to face reality, she somehow doubted that they would be the ones sacked.

"You two along with Ross will have to deal with the fallout. Besides, there will be a few competent Admirals being recalled from retirement." Roddenbery allowed himself a tiny smile. A few legends would have to put in the uniform one last time. It was too bad that he wouldn't be around to work with them again.

"Recalling all available personnel who ever served on a Starship will help with the manpower situation in the short term." Livingston nodded. He almost smiled at the thought of old, experienced spacers showing how things are really done to the new crop of officers and enlisted personnel.

"We'll have training up to snuff soon enough." Nechayev added. "Getting enough bodies to cycle through it will be harder, especially if things go south in the Assembly."

"Yes, when all is said and done, simple conscription won't do much for giving us decent crews any time soon." Livingston sighed.

They all knew that getting decent amounts of ground troops wouldn't be hard. A few months of training once the draft and training systems were working would be easy. Training moderately competent starship crews with the intention of throwing them in combat… that was something quite different. There was a reason why training even ordinary crew-members took a couple of years. Getting competent officers was much harder… and that was when they had highly motivated volunteer cadre to work with.

It never crossed his mind that building the multiple army groups that would eventually be needed would be anything but simple or easy.

"The manpower issue will be Commodore Pierce's problem once he arrives in system. He's being promoted to Rear Admiral and will have to straighten up that mess. You both know him, I believe?"

"Henry Pierce, right?" Livingston asked. He had a far away look for a moment and a satisfied smile appeared on his face. "He's up to the task."

"I'm glad you approve, David." Roddenbery smirked at his long time friend. "Any comments over the reports I sent you?" He changed the topic.

"Many, all unbefiting a Starfleet officer." Nechayev grimaced. "We learned a lot from War's last stand."

There was a moment of silence after she mentioned the Tellarite Admiral. None of them liked the fact that they had to sacrifice so many of their own people and ships in a desperate last stand, one that while inflicting an out of proportion damage to the enemy, didn't really slow them down.

"Starbase 375 was refitted with our best shields and weapon systems, yet it survived two point one minutes under concentrated enemy fire. Besides that torpedo trap, the base inflicted much lower than projected damage. The conclusion is obvious, the Jem'Hadar ships produced within Dominion space are of higher quality than what is built locally. That makes the enemy armada coming our way more dangerous than initially anticipated. The fact that we just now learned of the fact that locally built Jem'Hadar vessels are of inferior quality is an intelligence failure. If we knew that just a few months ago..." Nechayev shrugged.

"We missed an opportunity." Livingston nodded. "If we threw everything we had at them two to four months ago, the Dominion and Cardassians could have easily folded. By ceding initiative and taking a defensive posture, we let them use their top of the line vessels to great effect."

"We let them defeat in detail most of our best fleets." Nechayev muttered.

"Even if we knew that, it's unlikely that our civilian leadership would have authorized a general offensive at the time. Not after the disasters that were our first two attempts to counter attack." Roddenbery shrugged. Those two battles combined were a strategic setback almost rivaling the latest screw up. "You've seen the good news as well."

"We'll have about five thousand ships available in the Core Sectors by the time the enemy arrives. With the additional forces that they are throwing against us, that still gives us overall numerical advantage." Livingston nodded. "However, those numbers are guaranteed to change if we allow the enemy an unopposed advance." Livingston looked uneasily at his commander. They were well aware that no matter what the numbers said, the Dominion held the advantage thanks to their ships being pure warship designs, while the Federation would field a force that includes many obsolete designs even after war refits.

"It's a concern I share too. We lost too many of our most experienced officers and crews already. While we have to meet the Dominion in a series of defensive battles to both slow them down and contest systems we can't let them take without a fight, I'm afraid that we might lose more than we gain in such engagements. It's unlikely that we'll manage to lure them into many more traps before they arrive. At any rate, they don't even need to use parts of their main fleet to attack important systems. There are about a thousand Jem'Hadar and Cardassian ships pouring into our territory as Starfleet units are falling back to the core sectors. A further few hundred vessels will be available soon, once new enemy construction enters service and the survivors of the Dominion Fleet that halted Operation Return are patched up and sent back into the fray."

"That's a concern of mine too. I'm sure you've got some ideas on how to diminish the enemy numbers while suffering minimal casualties. You should write them up in a formal report. The President would like to see it before he decides if he should approve my recommendation that you succeed me as a Chief of Staff." Roddenbery smirked at a gobsmacked Alyanna.

"You're determined to make me suffer behind a desk, aren't you?" She grumbled a few seconds later.

"That's one of the reasons I was so glad when you both made Flag Rank. Misery loves company." Roddenbery chuckled. "Let's just hope that there will still be a Federation for you to defend." All traces of humor disappeared form the Chief of Staff.

"You know something." Livingston declared.

"Computer, show the feed from the Assembly meeting in progress." Roddenbery ordered. "I know that a number of systems demand Starfleet protection or they will deem the Federation as a whole derelict in her duties to her member systems and secede. We can't sent them any ships that will make a shred of difference if the Dominion decides to hit them."

"Ah. I was wondering when it would start." Nechayev slumped back in her chair.

Livingston looked between his two colleagues. "I know I'm rather dull as far as politics go, but doing so sounds like madness!" He grunted.

"Oh, it is." Roddenbery nodded. "It can easily start a domino effect that sees the Federation unraveled before the enemy arrives at Sector 001. However, I can't really blame them. Not under these circumstances. I did give the order to abandon them to the Dominion's mercy." Roddenbery suddenly looked much older than his seventy years. He knew that the decision was the right one, the only one he could make in order to protect the Federation.

That didn't make him feel any better.

"There will be many voices within the Assembly screaming for us to defend everything." Nechayev added. "When it becomes crystal clear that we can afford to contest only strategically important locations..." She trailed off.

"How the hell did we get into this mess?"

"It's actually our fault." Roddenbery smiled sadly. "We as well as the Federation as a whole were too successful. Too many new members were allowed in while Starfleet wasn't properly expanded to protect our new borders and I don't need to explain to you why most of the fleet is made up by obsolete vessels?"

"Don't remind me. Before going to the Academy I did vote for representatives who were promising replicators for every home and holosuite hours being available weekly to everybody." Livingston muttered.

"You and everyone else." Nechayev smiled sadly. She was contemplating joining Starfleet after she graduated at the time and remembered the furor. It was supposed to be the dawn of a golden age, a utopia in the making… And for the first time in human history that was true.

"There wasn't a present and clear danger to justify a powerful and expanded Starfleet at the time." Roddenbery muttered. "So it was a no brainer how the ordinary citizen would vote on the issue. We got our utopia and now we're all paying the price for it. But enough reminiscenting about the past. We have a lot of work to do. What's the schedule on expanding our major shipyards? How long before we can start laying new hulls?"


	9. Chapter 2 Part 5 by Doragon on AH com

**AN: This part was written by Doragon on AH . com. Thank you for the great work!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 2: Aftermath**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 5**

* * *

 **Caldos II  
Beta Octantis System**

Not many lived outside the core city, nestled between a pair of mountain ranges selected specifically because they invoked the beauty and isolation of the Scottish Highlands of Earth. The planet hadn't always been so green, previously very arid and covered in vast deserts and deadly hot tar pits while inhabited by a variety of small but deadly arthropods; the robust survivors of the planets numerous extinction events over the past few billions years. It had been perfect for a major Federation terraforming project.

Now it was home to millions.

But every world had its secrets, and this one more than most. Thus while the Alpha Quadrant became slowly embroiled in a war that was threatening to rip apart everything the Federation had spent centuries buildings, Benjamin Tucker was speeding across the grassy lowlands. His fast skimmer was a rental, usually used by tourists to visit the vast cave networks on the other side of the colony or by ranchers to keep an eye on their valuable herds. More than two Sol hours from the most remote outpost of civilization, Tucker found himself passing through a holographic rock face and being escorted inside by a hovering spherical drone with near silent turbofans and an ominous-looking pair of phaser emitters crossing its surface.

The pair of them entered an old fashioned elevator, solidly built and wide, and proceeded to descend deep under the surface. Minutes passed in silence until they reached an untold depth. When the doors opened a man who had until recently been Daniel Abram and countless other names before that, rose from his work and greeted Tucker with an impressed look on his clean-shaved face.

"Mister Tucker," he said. "You are a persistent man."

"You're difficult to find, Sir."

"Dead men aren't supposed to exist," replied Abram. "Or at least, that is how it is supposed to be. The never-ending march or technology makes it increasingly difficult to arrange convincing deaths."

Tucker smiled, "Believe me, Sir, you weren't at all easy to find and I knew what to look for. This is a fairly remote place."

"As it needs to be," the older man sighed. "All my ambitions to make a better world…now gone. Once again, the fiercely ethical humanity of this age refuses anything to do with technologies that have proven harmful, so they reject the idea of robotic servants or genetic enhancements even as an enemy who has no hesitation to use them carves a path of destruction across the Alpha Quadrant."

Tucker looked the man over, "So you are aware of what is happening?"

"It is possible to be separate from the universe, and know that you are still a part of it," came his cryptic response while beckoning him off the elevator and into the small reception area.

The space was a perfect hexagon, each wall ten meters long, with the elevator resting inside one and an alcove recessed into the other five. Each alcove held a transporter pad large enough to transport a dozen people and a small panel on the wall with the outline of a human hand etched into it. Abrams noticed he was staring at them and offered, "You can relax. The panels are securely mounted, and each one checks fingerprints, blood type, pulse, DNA and requests a voiced command to operate. No creature will be able to mimic its way into our facility."

"That makes me feel better," the younger man stated. He stilled remembered his friends felled by the short Federation-Klingon War, a direct result of Changelings manipulating the strings of power.

"We are not without resources."

They moved into one of the alcoves and Abrams placed his hand on the panel. After the computer was confident both individuals were who they said they were, the system began to dematerialize them and reassemble them elsewhere. The two of them appeared at the end of a long hallway and proceeded to move through it. Tucker noted the walls were adorned with a variety of magnificent works of art.

"Yours?"

"Each one. They are about Creation. Each one told from the viewpoint of a different religion or culture from across the known galaxy."

"Interesting."

"Not really. Each is a myth, incomplete, wrong in some profound way," Abrams offered a shrug, then added with a slight smirk, "I find the beginning of a tale to be more interesting than the end. I suppose that is ironic when you consider our profession."

They reached a door, and Abrams entered a security code. "I had always hoped that this door would remain locked."

The door gave way to a lab, where Tucker saw an abundance of high-tech equipment and robotic prototypes not unlike those he saw on the surface. Benjamin looked around for a moment, then asked, "Where did all this come from?"

"Many places; Mister Arik Soong, components of Borg vessels, rifts in space-time, exploration of dead worlds," Abrams answered, then chuckled, "Basically the fruit of the last ten years of exploration from the Enterprise."

Tucker shook his head in disbelief as he spoke, "I suppose that is wise." He walked up to a pile of android components, held in stasis by an energy field like much of the items in this room, and asked, "Isn't this Commander Data?"

"His brother," Abrams corrected. "We know how to duplicate its components, but the neural systems remain a challenge. We have been considering using the same processors and subroutines from the EMH system to make an android that will be more reliable."

"And this far from the wormhole you will have plenty of time to experiment. Hell, the Dominion will have to go past the Core Worlds and the Romulans before they get close to this system."

"That was the point. When Section 31 learned of the wormhole, they established this research station as far from that threat as possible. We can't leave anything to chance."

"Speaking of the wormhole," Tucker began, "where is the device?"

Wordlessly Abrams led his guest to the other end of the room and to a pair of massive doors. When they approached a blue light ran over Abrams, checking his identity. Once it was sure the light blinked out of existence and took a force field Tucker hadn't been aware of with it. Slowly the heavy doors parted, leaving only a small three meter wide opening for them to walk through.

As they stepped inside the temperature rapidly cooled, but not unbearably so. Abrams said, "When the discovery was made, even by accident as it was, it didn't take long to see it weaponized. The Federations entire stock of the core material was used to make these few devices."

He hesitated before adding, "Are we really going to use these?"

Tucker walked over the nearest device, running a hand across the golden ancient Greek symbol etched into the ebony surface of the modified torpedo. "I don't know yet. But we need to be ready."


	10. Chapter 2 Part 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek TV series, Motion pictures, Novels or Games. They belong to their respective creators and Copyright owners. This story is created with no monetary gain in mind. I make no money from it. It is not to be sold or rented.**

 **Empire rising**

 **Book One: How the Dreams Die**

 **Chapter 2: Aftermath**

 **=HDD=**

 **Part 6**

 **Montgomery Scott's Apartment**

 **Aberdeen**

 **Scotland**

"You two are sight for sore eyes." Scotty smirked at the view screen taking much of the far wall of his living room. The split-screen image of Pavel Chekov and Hiraku Sulu brought a smile on his weathered face.

His two friends looked even older than the last time he saw them, which wasn't too long ago. Still, thanks to advancements in medicine, neither of them looked their more than hundred and fifty years of age, which was a saying something considering that he was the only one who had an excuse to appear somewhat "youngish" after the accident thanks to which he skipped a lot years.

"You aren't the one to speak. Youngster." Chekov snorted good-naturally. These days there was barely a hint of the strong Russian accent he had as a young ensign.

"I'm like a good bottle of whiskey, becoming better with age." The engineer chuckled.

"You'll soon have the opportunity to prove it old friend." Sulu sighed.

"This isn't a social call I take it?" The smile vanished from Scotty's face.

"Have both of you seen the news?" The Senator asked.

"You'll have to be more specific." Pavel quipped.

"The results of today's Assembly meeting."

"Whatever happened there still hasn't been aired." Scotty shrugged. Had instructed his house's computer to inform him about any important news concerning the war effort and it was silent before Pavel and Hiraku called.

"It was bad." For a moment there, Sulu looked truly ancient. "At least twenty systems in the front line regions will secede unless Starfleet could fulfill its obligations and actually protect them."

"With what ships? The locker has been mighty empty for a long, long time." Scotty scoffed.

"Oh, it gets better." Sulu grumbled.

"This I have to hear." Chekov looked less than pleased at the prospect.

"While finally a lot of systems are ready to start building ships and defensive systems, most of them won't be sending anything to Starfleet until they have ensured their own security. That attitude is especially prevalent in the systems on the route of the Jem'Hadar advance." Sulu summarized the situation.

"Well at least they won't just roll the red carpet for the Dominion." Chekov mused.

"It's nonsense. Unless I'm very much mistaken, most of those places could build only a handful of ships and very limited defenses before the Jem'Hadar overruns them." Scotty scoffed at the latest brainstorm of the politicians.

"We know that. I suspect that most of them do so too, but they see no other alternative with Starfleet pulling back." Hiraku shrugged. Needless to say, everything that those systems could produce would be more useful as a part of Starfleet, though good luck explaining that to the people who were soon to fall under Dominion occupation. They were unlikely to care about the concerns of an organization, which just abandoned them.

"Any other good news?"

"Well there actually are a few."

"Indeed? That's a pleasant if unexpected surprise." Chekov raised an eyebrow at the very idea.

"It concerns our own Prime Minister and our friends on Andora."

"Don't keep us in suspense." Scotty waved at his friend.

"United Earth and the Andorian Imperial High Command will be restoring both their ground and space forces starting immediately. The official announcement will be at eight standard time tonight. All space yards not under the direct control of Starfleet will be nationalized and refitted for military production as well as expanded as much as the availability of trained personnel and resources permits. Limited conscription will be in effect as soon as training facilities and cadre are made available."

"Well, isn't this interesting." Scotty muttered.

"I didn't think that the day would ever come." Chekov nodded. "They both United Earth and the Andorians will be starved for qualified personnel."

"That's where we come in. I spoke with the Prime Minister and come bearing gifts." Sulu smiled crookedly. "And I hope you'll accept them."

"Pray tell." Scotty knew where that was going.

"You two are offered a place within the new Terran Navy. Pavel, if you accept, you'll be the Admiral of the Fleet, in charge of making the organization hit the ground running. And you my youngish friend," Hiraku looked at Scotty, "Will be head of the Design and Development bureau of the Navy. We'll need warships in order to win this war as well as properly refitting the newer classes so they would be at least on an even footing with the enemy."

"This wasn't what I expected when you called." Chekov chuckled. "It's a rather tall order, you know that, right?"

"I'll be right beside you as the Secretary of the Navy, a position I accepted earlier today."

"It's good to be back. I accept. What about you, Scotty?"

The engineer was deep in thought for a few seconds. However, when all was said and told, it was a rather easy decision. His research could wait. Earth and the Federation at large couldn't.

"Do you really need to ask? I'm in." Actually designing a proper warships… that would be a novel experience he was looking forward to. Besides someone had to look after those two and make sure that they wouldn't break the currently non-existent Terran navy.

"Good. As you both can guess, we'll be starting basically from scratch. The good news is that we should be able to get a decent core of veterans from our time in the service, who are unlikely to be recalled by Starfleet as being too old." Hiraku rolled his eyes at the very thought. While the three of them were literally ancient, neither of them was ready to throw the towel just yet and there were more than a few from their generation still kicking around.

"I'm wounded. Do Starfleet really considers us fossils?"

"There are a lot of people in high command who would prefer that we remain just legends from the wild past." Chekov grunted.

"You're speaking from experience." Scotty frowned.

"Let's just say that in some respects you were rather lucky to to enjoy your prolonged vacation out of the Federation. Some changes weren't for the best, especially in Stargfleet."

"No more than in High Command." Sulu nodded.

"That bad?"

"Let's just say that there are some people in there who consider the Tactical Command track being obsolete among other things."

Scotty winced. That hasn't been something made obvious during his interactions with Starfleet ever since he came back, however as an engineer he had been much to interested by all the new technologies developed during his absence to pay close attention to Starfleet as an institution.

That said, after being subjected to a few tours on new ships, he had been left with a lot of questions about the sanity of the people who had designed and approved them for service.

Perhaps he was warped by the wilder nature of the galaxy during his service in Starfleet, but he simply couldn't help but notice how much safer various vessels could have been made with the available technologies. And families on ships that were likely to engage in combat?! When he was made aware of that during a tour shortly after being returned to the land of the living, Scotty had been stunned, though his mind had soon been busy with the wonders in engineering.

"That's merely a symptom of the attitude that a lot of today's officers and enlisted personnel has that's the greatest problem with Starfleet. Simply put, it's not longer the military organization which ensured the security of the Federation during our day. That's something, which we must change if the Terran Navy is to be successful." Sulu mused aloud.

"Agreed. It will be up to us to set up the tone for this new organization." Chekov noted.

"That's all well and good. Hiraku, do you and the Prime Minister actually have some tangible plans on how to make all this happen?" Scotty asked.

"In a matter of speaking..." Sulu smiled.

 **=ER=**

 **Interlude: Romulan Star Empire I**

 **Location Classified**

 **Romulus**

It was a rather small room, which was made it that much easier to be shielded against unwanted listeners. Plain too, only a simple durasteel table surrounded by six rather comfortable chairs, five of which were taken. There were four men and one woman in the room, all cloaked in twilight and further protected by various devices that obscured their features and altered their voices besides providing the usual disruption of scanners and ensuring that DNA wouldn't be left at inconvenient places.

"Is it confirmed?" The woman asked.

"Tentatively. While the battle is still ongoing, our observers believe that Starfleet no longer has a chance of breaking through to DS9. The only question is how many ships they would lose before being able to disengage."

"So much for wishful thinking." Another male voice quipped.

"Don't be like that, Senator. There was a reasonable chance for the Cardies to fuck up and allow a breakthrough." The woman chided. "That would have been for the best." She sighed.

It should have been hilarious. They were some of the most powerful people in the Empire after Tal Shiar suffered a rather major blow when their attempt to decapitate the Dominion failed in a quite spectacular fashion. The five Romulans in the room should have been glad at the reversals the Feddies were facing. Anything to de-claw their primary strategic adversary should have been a great thing… unless the ones doing it were even more of a threat.

Ironically, they had the Dominion to thank for this meeting. It was made possible only by the reversals the Tal Shiar had suffered lately thanks to them. Otherwise the five wouldn't have dared meet in such a way to discuss what could be considered treason by many in the Senate.

"What do we do now?" The youngest of the cabal asked.

"Our duty." The last of the cloaked men spoke. "We do what we have to to protect the Empire."

"Easier said than done."

"True enough. What's your view on the strategic situation, admiral?"

"Fluid. The Federation-Klingon alliance could recover even if they lose most of the ships taking part in Operation Return… as long as the Wormhole remain sealed."

"The Dominion will be taking out the minefield shortly and there isn't anyone in position to stop them. We have just a few Birds of Prey in the region, but they lack the assets to make a difference."

"Indeed. It will all depend on how much reinforcements the Dominion would send through. You've seen the more conservative reports about their size and economy."

"They can rival the Federation. If we're particularly unlucky the Dominion would have the assets to take on them the Klingons and us."

"I'm not wagering the future of our people on luck. Yes, its possible that all of our credible enemies exhaust themselves in this war, leaving us in a stronger position. It's also possible that once the Dominion is finished with them, they would turn their war machine on us and then we would have to face them alone."

"That's the issue, isn't it? This is perhaps the best time for us to enter the war, however Tal Shiar and the Senate won't agree. They would gleefully watch the war unfold until it's too late."

"What's your father's position?"

"He's an old man who has lost a touch with reality." The youngest man present sighed. "We won't be getting any direct support from him."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"Indeed. It will make our move a bit more complicated."

"Perhaps. On the other hand what choice do we have?" The woman scowled. "I know none of you believe that the Dominion would simply leave us alone once they have won their war. Do you really doubt that outcome?"

"Ask me again when we see what reinforcements they are ready to sent in our corner of the galaxy..."

"We'll know soon enough."

 **=ER=**

"That's a lot of ships."

"Three thousand plus Dominion vessels." The Admiral frowned. While the Federation-Klingon alliance might survive this onslaught, they wouldn't have a fleet to speak of afterwords. For all any of them knew, the Dominion had another such armada assembling in the Delta quadrant, preparing to deliver the Coup de Grace to the allies.

"At least this makes our position clear. I'm in." One of the men declared.

"Fighting on alongside the Federation and the Klingons… That will be a hard thing to get used to. I'm in. We either fight the Dominion alongside the rest of the local powers or we face them alone, when there's nothing left to distract them." The Admiral nodded gravely.

"I've seen the writing on the wall some time ago. It's not like we have another decent alternative." The Senator grumbled.

"I'll do my duty to the Empire." The young man spoke quietly. "What about you, general?"

"Coup D'efeat it is. Now we just need to pull it off and survive to tell the tale."

"Well, no one promised that this would be easy. I have two Task Forces that could reach Romulus within the day as well as a few ships in system. We can at least stalemate Home Fleet, but the fixed defenses will tear us apart."

"My boys can take care of all ground based installations. The orbital grid is another matter. We might be able to take two or three of the control stations by surprise but that's it. We'll have to deal with the rest the hard way. However, turning the ground based weaponry upon the loyalists should turn the tide anyway.""

"The Senate?" The young man asked.

"I can sneak a some of the General's men as aides and expanded security detail though we'll need a lot of support to secure the building. I take it you'll deal with the palace and your father?"

"There's no other way."

"We are agreed then?"

"Yes. We need to move fast, before Tal Shiar or anyone else gets a wind on what we're doing and move to stop us."

"It's do or die. Nothing new there." The General shrugged.


End file.
